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Frank  the  Telegraph  Boy. 


THE 


TELEGRAPH  BOY. 


BY 


HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr., 

AUTHOR  OF  "RAGGED  DICK  SERIES,"    "LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES,*' 
"BRAVE  AND   BOLD   SERIES,"   ETC.,  ETC. 


THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  CO. 

PHILADELPHIA 
CHICAGO  TORONTO 


FAMOUS  ALGER  BOOKS. 


RAGGED  DICK  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  6  vols.  12mo.  Cloth, 
Ragged  Dick.  Rough  and  Ready. 

Fame  and  Fortune.  Ben  the  Luggage  Boy. 

Mark  the  Match  Boy.  Rufus  and  Rose. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    4  vols.   12mo. 
Cloth.    First  Series. 
Tattered  Tom.  Phil  the  Fiddler. 

Paul  the  Peddler.  Slow  and  Sure. 

TATTERED  TOM  SERIES.    4  vols.    12mo.    Cloth.    Second  Series. 
Julius.  Sam's  Chance. 

The  Young  Outlaw,  The  Telegraph  Boy. 

CAMPAIGN  SERIES.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    3  vols. 

Frank's  Campaign.  Charlie  Codman's  Cruise. 

Paul  Prescott's  Charge. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  4  vols.  12mo. 
Cloth.    First  Series. 
Luck  and  Pluck.  Strong  and  Steady. 

Sink  or  Swim.  Strive  and  Succeed. 

LUCK  AND  PLUCK  SERIES.    4  vols.    12mo.   Cloth.   Second  Series. 
Try  and  Trust.  Risen  from  the  Ranks* 

Bound  to  Rise.  Herbert  Carter's  Legacy. 

BRAVE  AND  BOLD  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.   4  vols.  12mo. 
Cloth, 
Brave  and  Bold.  Shifting  for  Himself. 

Jack's  Ward.  Wait  and  Hope. 

PACIFIC  SERIES.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    4  vols.    12m6\ 
The  Young  Adventurer.  The  Young  Explorers. 

The  Young  Miner.  Ben's  Nugget. 

ATLANTIC  SERIES.     By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    4  vols. 

The  Young  Circus  Rider.  Hector's  Inheritance. 

Do  and  Dare.  Helping  Himself. 

WAY  TO  SUCCESS  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.   4vols.  12mo. 
Cloth. 
Bob  Burton.  Luke  Walton. 

The  Store  Boy  Struggling  Upward. 

NEW  WORLD  SERIES.  By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.  3  vols.  12mo.  Cloth. 
Digging  for  Gold.      Facing  the  World.       In  a  New  World. 

Other  Volumes  in  Preparation. 

Copyright  by  A.  K.  Loring,  1879. 


THREE  YOUNG  FRIENDS, 

Lorin  and  Beatrice  Bernheimer. 

AND 

Florine  Arnold, 
Ejjis  &torg 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED. 


PREFACE. 


The  "Telegraph  Boy"  completes  the  series 
of  sketches  of  street-life  in  New  York  in- 
augurated eleven  years  since  by  the  publi- 
cation of  "Ragged  Dick."  The  author  has 
reason  to  feel  gratified  by  the  warm  recep- 
tion accorded  by  the  public  to  these  pictures 
of  humble  life  in  the  great  metropolis.  He 
is  even  more  gratified  by  the  assurance  that 
his  labors  have  awakened  a  philanthropic  in- 
terest in  the  children  whose  struggles  and 
privations  he  has  endeavored  faithfully  to  de- 
scribe. He  feels  it  his  duty  to  state  that 
there  is  no  way  in  which  these  waifs  can 
more  effectually  be  assisted  than  by  contrib- 
uting to  the  funds  of  "The  Children's  Aid 
Society,"  whose  wise  and  comprehensive  plans 
for  the  benefit  of  their  young  wards  have 
already   been   crowned  with   abundant   success. 


\rill  PREFACE. 

The  class  of  boys  described  in  the  pres* 
ent  volume  was  called  into  existence  only 
a  few  years  since,  but  they  are  already  so 
numerous  that  one  can  scarcely  ride  down 
town  by  any  conveyance  without  having  one 
for  a  fellow-passenger.  Most  of  them  reside 
with  their  parents  and  have  comfortable 
homes,  but  a  few,  like  the  hero  of  this 
story,  are  wholly  dependent  on  their  own 
exertions  for  a  livelihood.  The  variety  of 
errands  on  which  they  are  employed,  and 
their  curious  experiences,  are  by  no  means 
exaggerated  in  the  present  story.  In  its 
preparation  the  author  has  been  assisted  by 
an  excellent  sketch  published  perhaps  a  year 
since   in   the   "New   York   Tribune." 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

New  Yobk,  Sept.  1,  1879. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

CHAPTER  I. 

A   YOUNG   CARPET-BAGGER. 

"Twenty-five  cents  to  begin  the  world  with!" 
reflected  Frank  Kavanagh,  drawing  from  his  vest- 
pocket  two  ten-cent  pieces  of  currency  and  a 
nickel.  "  That  isn't  much,  but  it  will  have  to 
do." 

The  speaker,  a  boy  of  fifteen,  was  sitting  on 
a  bench  in  City-Hall  Park.  He  was  apparently 
about  fifteen  years  old,  with  a  face  not  hand- 
some, but  frank  and  good-humored,  and  an  ex- 
pression indicating  an  energetic  and  hopeful 
temperament.  A  small  bundle,  rolled  up  in  a 
handkerchief,  contained  his  surplus  wardrobe.  He 
had  that  day  arrived  in  New  York  by  a  boat 
from  Hartford,  and  meant  to  stay  in  the  city  if 
he  could  make  a  living. 


10  THE    TELEGRAPH  BOY. 

Next  to  him  sat  a  man  of  thirty-five,  shabbily 
dressed,  who  clearly  was  not  a  member  of  any 
temperance  society,  if  an  inflamed  countenance 
and  red  nose  may  be  trusted.  Frank  Kavanagh'a 
display  of  money  attracted  his  attention,  for, 
small  as  was  the  boy's  capital,  it  was  greater 
than  his  own. 

"Been  long  in  the  city,  Johnny?"  he   inquired 

"I  only  arrived  to-day,"  answered  Frank.  "My 
name  isn't  Johnny,  though." 

"•It's  immaterial.  Johnny  is  a  generic  term," 
said  the  stranger.  "I  suppose  you  have  come 
here  to  make  your  fortune." 

"I  shall  be  satisfied  with  a  living  to  begin 
with,"  said  Frank. 

""Where  did  you  come  from?" 

"A  few  miles  from  Hartford." 

' '  Got  any  relations  there  ?  " 

"Yes,  —  an  uncle  and  aunt." 

"  I  suppose  you  were  sorry  to  leave  them." 

"Not  much.  Uncle  is  a  pretty  good  man,  but 
he's  fond  of  money,  and  aunt  is  about  as  mean 
as  they  make  'em.     They  got  tired  of  supporting 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  11 

me,  and  gave  me  money  enough  to  get  to  New 
York." 

"I  suppose  you  have  some  left,"  said  the 
stranger,  persuasively. 

"Twenty-five  cents,"  answered  Frank,  laughing. 
"That  isn't  a  very  big  capital  to  start  on,  is  it?" 

"Is  that  all  you've  got?"  asked  the  shabbily 
dressed  stranger,  in  a  tone  of  disappointment. 

"  Every  cent." 

"  I  wish  I  had  ten  dollars  to  give  you,"  sa'd 
the  stranger,  thoughtfully. 

"  Thank  you,  sir ;  I  wish  you  had,"  said  Frank, 
his  e}'es  resting  on  the  dilapidated  attire  of  his 
benevolent  companion.  Judging  from  that,  he  was 
not  surprised  that  ten  dollars  exceeded  the  chari- 
table fund  of  the  philanthropist. 

"  My  operations  in  Wall  street  have  not  been 
fortunate  of  late,"  resumed  the  stranger ;  "  and  I 
am  in  consequence  hard  up." 

"Do  3rou  do  business  in  Wall  street?"  asked 
Frank,  rather  surprised. 

"  Sometimes,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  have  lost 
heavily  of   late    in   Erie   and   Pacific   Mail,   but   it 


12  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

is  only  temporary.  I  shall  soon  be  on  my  feet 
again." 

"  I  hope  so,  sir,"  said  Frank,  politely. 

"My  career  has  been  a  chequered  one,"  con 
tinued  the  stranger.  "  I,  too,  as  a  mere  boy, 
came  up  from  the  country  to  make  my  fortune. 
I  embarked  in  trade,  and  was  for  a  time  success- 
ful. I  resigned  to  get  time  to  write  a  play,  —  a 
comedy  in  five  acts." 

Frank  regarded  his  companion  with  heightened 
respect.  He  was  a  boy  of  good  education,  and 
the  author  of  a  play  in  his  eyes  was  a  man  of 
genius. 

"Was  it  played?"  he  inquired. 

"No;  Wallack  said  it  had  too  many  difficult 
characters  for  his  company,  and  the  rest  of  the 
managers  kept  putting  me  off,  while  they  were 
producing  inferior  plajTs.  The  American  public 
will  never  know  what  they  have  lost.  But,  enough 
of  this.  Sometime  I  will  read  you  the  '  Mother- 
in-law,'  if  you  like.     Have  you  had  dinner?" 

"No,"  answered  Frank.  "Do  you  know  where 
I  can  dine  cheap  ?  "  he  inquired. 


THE     TELEGRAPH  BOY.  18 

MYes,"  answered  the  stranger.  "Once  I  boarded 
at  the  Astor  House,  but  now  I  am  forced,  by  dire 
necessity,  to  frequent  cheap  restaurants.  Follow 
me." 

"What  is  your  name,  sir?"  asked  Frank,  as 
he  rose  from  the  bench. 

"Montagu  Percy,"  was  the  reply.  "Sorry  I 
haven't  my  card-case  with  me,  or  I  would  hand 
you  my  address.  I  think  you  said  your  name 
was  not  Johnny." 

"  My  name  is  Frank  Kavanagh." 

"A  very  good  name.  'What's  in  a  name?' 
as  Shakespeare  says." 

As  the  oddly  assorted  pair  crossed  the  street, 
and  walked  down  Nassau  street,  they  attracted 
the  attention  of  some  of  the  Arabs  who  were 
lounging  about  Printing-House  square. 

"I  say,  country,  is  that  your  long-lost  uncle?" 
asked  a  boot-black. 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  answered  Frank,  shortly. 

Though  he  was  willing  to  avail  himself  of  Mr. 
Percy's  guidance,  he  was  not  ambitious  of  being 
regarded  as  his  nephew. 


14  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  Heed  not  their  ribald  scoffs,"  said  Montagu 
Percy,  loftily.  "Their  words  pass  by  me  'like 
the  idle  wind,'  which  I  regard  not." 

"Who  painted  }'our  nose,  mister?"  asked  another 
boy,  of  course  addressing  Frank's  companion. 

"  I  will  hand  you  over  to  the  next  policeman," 
exclaimed  Percy,  angrily. 

"  Look  out  he  don't  haul  you  in,  instead," 
retorted  the  boy. 

Montagu  Percy  made  a  motion  to  pursue  his 
tormentors,  but  desisted. 

"They  are  beneath  contempt,"  he  said.  "It  is 
ever  the  lot  of  genius  to  be  railed  at  by  the  ignorant 
and  ignoble.  They  referred  to  my  nose  being  red, 
but  mistook  the  cause.  It  is  a  cutaneous  eruption, 
—  the  result  of  erysipelas." 

"Is  it?"  asked  Frank,  rather  mystified. 

"I  am  not  a  drinking  man  —  that  is,  I  indulge 
myself  but  rarely.     But  here  we  are." 

So  saying  he  plunged  down  some  steps  into  a 
basement,  Frank  following  him.  Our  hero  found 
himself  in  a  dirty  apartment,  provided  with  a  bar, 
over  which  was  a  placard,  inscribed:  — 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  15 


"FREE  LUNCH. 


"  How  much  money  have  you  got,  Frank  ? " 
inquired  Montagu  Percy. 

"  Twenty-five  cents." 

"  Lunch  at  this  establishment  is  free,"  said 
Montagu ;  "  but  you  are  expected  to  order  some 
drink.     What  will  you  have?" 

"I  don't  care  for  any  drink  except  a  glass  of 
water." 

"  All  right;  I  will  order  for  you,  as  the  rules  of 
the  establishment  require  it ;  but  I  will  drink  your 
glass  myself.     Eat  whatever  you  like." 

Frank  took  a  sandwich  from  a  plate  on  the  counter 
and  ate  it  with  relish,  for  he  was  hungry.  Mean- 
while his  companion  emptied  the  two  glasses,  and 
ordered  another. 

"Can  you  pay  for  these  drinks?"  asked  the  bar- 
tender, suspiciously. 

"Sir,  I  never  order  what  I  cannot  pay  for." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  You've  been  in  here 
and  taken  lunch  more  than  once  without  drinking 
anything." 


16  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  It  may  be  so.  I  will  make  up  for  it  now. 
Another  glass,  please." 

"  First  pay  for  what  yoxx  have  already  drunk." 

"  Frank,  hand  me  your  money,"  said  Montagu. 

Frank  incautiously  handed  him  his  small  stock  of 
money,  which  he  saw  instantly  transferred  to  the 
bar-tender. 

"That  is  right,  I  believe,"  said  Montagu  Percy. 

The  bar-keeper  nodded,  and  Percy,  transferring  his 
attention  to  the  free  lunch,  stowed  away  a  large 
amount. 

Frank  observed  with  some  uneasiness  the  transfer 
of  his  entire  cash  capital  to  the  bar-tender ;  but 
concluded  that  Mr.  Percy  would  refund  a  part  after 
they  went  out.  As  they  reached  the  street  he 
oroached  the  subject. 

"  I  didn't  agree  to  pay  for  both  dinners,"  he  said, 
uneasily. 

"Of  course  not.  It  will  be  my  treat  next  time. 
That  will  be  fair,  won't  it?" 

' '  But  I  would  rather  you  would  give  me  back 
a  part  of  my  money.  I  may  not  see  you 
again." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  17 

"  I  will  be  in  the  Park  to-morrow  at  one 
o'clock." 

"  Give  me  back  ten  cents,  then,"  said  Frank, 
uneasily.     "  That  was  all  the  money  I  had." 

"  I  am  really  sorry,  but  I  haven't  a  penny  about 
me.  I'll  make  it  right  to-morrow.  Good-day,  my 
young  friend.     Be  virtuous  and  you  will  be  happy." 

Frank  looked  after  the  shabby  figure  ruefully.  He 
felt  that  he  had  been  taken  in  and  done  for. 
His  small  capital  had  vanished,  and  he  was  adrift 
in  the  streets  of  a  strange  city  without  a  penny. 


18  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER  II. 


DICK   RAFFERTT. 


"  I've  been  a  fool,"  said  Frank  to  himself,  in 
genuine  mortification,  as  he  realized  how  easily  he 
had  permitted  himself  to  be  duped.  "I  ought  to 
have  stayed  in  the  country." 

Even  a  small  sum  of  money  imparts  to  its  pos- 
sessor a  feeling  of  independence,  but  one  who  is 
quite  penniless  feels  helpless  and  apprehensive. 
Frank  was  unable  even  to  purchase  an  apple  from 
the  snuffy  old  apple-woman  who  presided  over  the 
stand  near  by. 

"What  am  I  going  to  do?"  he  asked  himself, 
soberly. 

"What  has  become  of  your  uncle?"  asked  a 
boot-black. 

Looking  up,  Frank  recognized  one  of  those  who 
had  saluted  Percy  and  himself  on  their  way  to  the 
restaurant. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  19 

"He  isn't  my  uncle,"  he  replied,  rather  resent- 
fully. 

"You  never  saw  him  before,  did  you?"  continued 
the  boy. 

"No,  I  didn't." 

"  That's  what  I  thought." 

There  was  something  significant  in  the  young 
Arab's  tone,  which  led  Frank  to  inquire,  "  Do  you 
know  him  ? " 

"Yes,  he's  a  dead-beat." 

"  A  what?" 

"A  dead-beat.     Don't  you  understand  English?" 

"  He  told  me  that  he  did  business  on  Wall  street." 

The  boot-black  shrieked  with  laughter. 

"He  do  business  on  Wall  street!"  he  repeated. 
"  You're  jolly  green,  you  are  !  " 

Frank  was  inclined  to  be  angry,  but  he  had  the 
good  sense  to  see  that  his  new  friend  was  right.  So 
he  said  good-humoredly,  "  I  suppose  I  am.  You 
see  I  am  not  used  to  the  city." 

"  It's  just  such  fellows  as  }tou  he  gets  hold  of," 
continued  the  boot-black.  "  Didn't  he  make  you 
treat?" 


20  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  I  may  as  well  confess  it,"  thought  Frank. 
"  This  boy  may  help  me  with  advice." 

"  Yes,"  he  said  aloud.  "  I  hadn't  but  twenty-five 
cents,  and  he  made  me  spend  it  all.  I  haven't  a 
cent  left." 

"Whew!"  ejaculated  the  other  boy.  "You're 
beginnin'  business  on  a  small  capital." 

"That's  so,"  said  Frank.  "Do  you  know  any 
way  I  can   earn   money  ? " 

Dick  Rarferty  was  a  good-natured  boy,  although 
rough,  and  now  that  Frank  had  appealed  to  him  for 
advice  he  felt  willing  to  help  him,  if  he  could. 

"  What  can  you  do?  "  he  asked,  in  a  business-like 
tone.     "Have  jtou  ever  worked?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Frank. 

"What   can   you   do?" 

"  I  can  milk  cows,  hoe  corn  and  potatoes,  ride 
horse   to  plough,    and  — " 

"  Hold  up  !  "  said  Dick.  "  All  them  things  aint 
goin'  to  do  you  no  good  in  New  York.  People  don't 
keep   cows   as  a   reg'lar   thing   here.'1' 

"  Of  course   I   know   that." 

' '  And    there   aint   much   room   for  plantin'   com 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  21 

and  potatoes.  Maybe  you  could  get  a  job  over  in 
Jersey." 

"  I'd  rather  stay  in  New  York.  I  can  do  some- 
thing here." 

"Can    you   black   boots,  or  sell   papers?" 

"  I   can   learn." 

"  You  need  money  to  set  up  in  either  of  them 
lines,"   said  Dick  Rafferty. 

"Would  twenty -five  cents  have  been  enough?" 
asked   Frank. 

"  You  could  have  bought  some  evening  papers 
with   that." 

"  I  wish  somebody  would  lend  me  some  money," 
said  Frank ;  ' '  I'd  pay  it  back  as  soon  as  I'd  sold 
my  papers.  I  was  a  fool  to  let  that  fellow  swindle 
me." 

"  That's  so,"  assented  Dick ;  "  but  it's  no  good 
thinkin'  of  that  now.  I'd  lend  you  the  money  my- 
self, if  I  had  it ;  but  I've  run  out  my  account  at  the 
Park  Bank,  and  can't  spare  the  mone}7  just  at 
present." 

"How  long  have  you  been  in  business?"  asked 
Frank. 


22  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  Ever  since  I  was  eight  year3  old  ;  and  I'm  goin 
on  fifteen   now." 

"You  went  to  work  early." 

"  Yes,  I  had  to.  Father  and  mother  both  died, 
and   I   was   left  to   take   care   of  myself." 

"  You  took  care  of  yourself  when  you  were  only 
eight   years   old?"    asked   Frank,   in   surprise. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  I  ought  to  make  a  living,  for  I  am  fifteen, 
—  a  year   older   than   you    are   now." 

"  Oh,  you'll  get  along  when  you  get  started,"  said 
Dick,  encouragingly.  "There's  lots  of  things  to 
do." 

"Is  there  anything  to  do  that  doesn't  require  any 
capital?"   inquired   Frank,    anxiously. 

"Yes,   you   can   smash  baggage." 

"Will  people  pay  for  that?"  asked  Frank,  with 
a  smile. 

"  Of  course  they  will.  You  jest  hang  round 
the  ferries  and  steamboat  landin's,  and  when  a 
chap  comes  by  with  a  valise  or  carpet-bag,  you 
jest  offer  to  carry  it,  that's  all." 

"Is  that  what  you   call   smashing   baggage?" 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  23 

"Of  course.     "What   did  you   think   it   was?" 

Frank  evaded  answering,  not  caring  to  display 
his   country  ignorance. 

"Do  you  think  I  can  get  a  chance  to  do  that?' 
he  asked. 

"  You  can  try  it  and  see." 

"  I  came  in  by  the  Hartford  boat  myself, 
to-day,"  said  Frank.  "If  I'd  thought  of  it,  I 
would   have   begun    at   once." 

"  Only  you  wouldn't  have  knowed  the  way  any- 
where, and  if  a  gentleman  asked  you  to  carry  his 
valise  to  any  hotel  you'd  have  had  to  ask  where 
it  was." 

"So   I   should,"   Frank   admitted. 

"I'll  show  you  round  a  little,  if  you  want 
me  to,"  said  Dick.  "I  shan't  have  anything  to  do 
for   an   hour   or    two." 

"  I   wish   you   would." 

So  the  two  boj-s  walked  about  in  the  lower  part 
of  the  city,  Dick  pointing  out  hotels,  public  build- 
ings, and  prominent  streets.  Frank  had  a  reten- 
tive memorj',  and  stored  away  the  information 
carefully.     Penniless    as    he   was,    he   was    excited 


24  THE     TELEGRAPH    BO  7. 

and  exhilarated  by  the  scene  of  activity  in  which 
he  was  moving,  and  was  glad  he  was  going  to  live 
in  it,  or   to   attempt   doing   so. 

"  When  I  am  used  to  it  I  shall  like  it  much 
better  than  the  country,"  he  said  to  Dick.  "  Don't 
you?" 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  was  the  reply. 
"  Sometimes  I  think  I'll  go  West  ;  —  a  lot  of  boys 
that  I   know   have   gone   there." 

"Won't  it  take  a  good  deal  of  money  to  go?" 
asked    Frank. 

"  Oh,  there's  a  society  that  pays  boys'  expenses, 
and  finds  'em  nice  homes  with  the  farmers.  Tom 
Harrison,  one  of  my  friends,  went  out  six  weeks 
ago,  and  he  writes  me  that  it's  bully.  He's  gone 
to   some   town   in   Kansas." 

"That's   a   good   way   off." 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  that.  I'd  like  ridin'  in  the 
cars." 

"It  would  be  something  new  to  you;  but  I've 
lived  in  the  country  all  my  life,  I'd  rather  stay 
here  awhile." 

"It's   just  the    way  a    feller  feels,"   said   Dick 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  25 

philosophically.  "  I've  bummed  around  so  much 
I'd  like  a  good,  stiddy  home,  with  three  square 
meals   a   day   and   a  good   bed   to   sleep   on." 

"Can't  jou.  get   that   here?"   asked   Frank. 

"Not  stiddy.  Sometimes  I  don't  get  but  one 
square   meal   a   day." 

Frank  became  thoughtful.  Life  in  the  city 
seemed  more  precarious  and  less  desirable  than 
he    anticipated. 

"  Well,  I  must  go  to  work  again,"  said  Dick, 
after   a   while, 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  sleep  to-night?" 
asked    Frank. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I'd  better  sleep  at  the 
Astor   House  or  Fifth   avenue,"  said   Dick. 

Frank   looked  perplexed. 

"You   don't   mean   that,  do  you?"   he  asked. 

"  Of  course  I  don't.  You're  too  fresh.  Don't 
get  mad,"  he  continued  good-naturedly,  seeing  the 
flush  on  Frank's  cheek.  "You'll  know  as  much 
about  the  city  as  I  do  before  long.  I  shall  go 
to  the  Newsboys'  Lodgin'  House,  where  I  can 
sleep  for   six   cents." 


26  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOT. 

"  I  wish  I  had  six  cents,"  said  Frank.  "  If 
I  could  only  get  work  I'd  soon  earn  it.  You 
can't  think  of  anything  for  me  to  do,  can 
you?" 

Dick's  face  lighted  up. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  can  get  you  a  job,  though 
it  aint  a  very  good  one.  I  wonder  I  didn't  think 
of  it  before." 

"What   is   it?"   asked   Frank,   anxiously. 

"  It's  to  go  round  with  a  blind  man,  solicitin' 
contributions." 

"You   mean   begging?" 

"  Yes ;  you  lead  him  into  stores  and  countin' 
rooms,    and  he   asks   for  money." 

"I  don't  like  it  much,"  said  Frank,  slowly, 
"  but  I  must  do  something.  After  all,  it'll  be  he 
that's   begging,    not  I." 

"  I'll  take  you  right  round  where  he  lives," 
said  Dick.  "  Maybe  he'll  go  out  this  evenin'. 
His  other  boy  give  him  the  slip,  and  he  hasn' 
got  a  new  one  yet." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  27 


CHAPTER  in. 

FRANK   FINDS   AN   EMPLOYEE. 

A  stone's  throw  from  Centre  street  stands  a  tall 
tenement-house,  sheltering  anywhere  from  forty  to 
fifty  families  in  squalid  wretchedness.  The  rent 
which  each  family  pa}rs  would  procure  a  neat 
house  in  a  country  town,  with  perhaps  a  little  laud 
beside ;  but  the  city  has  a  mysterious  fascination 
for  the  poorer  classes,  and  jTear  after  year  many 
who  might  make  the  change  herd  together  in  con- 
tracted and  noisome  quarters,  when  they  might  have 
their  share  of  light  and  space  in  country  neighbor- 
hoods. 

It  was  in  front  of  this  tenement-house  that  Dick 
halted,  and  plunged  into  a  dark  entrance,  admon- 
ishing Frank  to  follow.  Up  creaking  and  dilapi- 
dated staircases  to  the  fourth  floor  the  boys  went. 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  Dick,  panting  a  little  from 
the  rapidity  of  his  ascent,  and  began  a  vigorous 
tattoo   on   a   door  to   the  left. 


28  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  Is  this  where  the  blind  gentleman  lives?"  asked 
Frank,  looking  around  him  dubiously. 

"  He  isn't  much  of  a  gentleman  to  look  at,"  said 
Dick,  laughing.     "Do  you  hear  him?" 

Frank  heard  a  hoarse  growl  from  the  inside,  which 
might  have  been  "  Come  in."  At  any  rate,  Dick 
chose  so  to  interpret  it,  and  opened  the  door. 

The  boys  found  themselves  in  a  scantily  fur- 
nished room,  with  a  close,  disagreeable  smell  per- 
vading the  atmosphere.  In  the  corner  was  a  low 
bedstead,  on  which  lay  a  tall  man,  with  a  long, 
gray  beard,  and  a  disagreeable,  almost  repulsive, 
countenance.  He  turned  his  eyes,  which,  contrary 
to  Frank's  expectations,  were  wide  open,  full  upon 
his  visitors. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked  querulously. 
"  I  was  asleep,  and  }tou  have   waked  me   up." 

"Sorry  to  disturb  you,  Mr.  Mills,"  said  Dick; 
"  but  I  come  on  business." 

"What  business  can  you  have  with  me?"  de- 
manded the  blind  man.     "Who  are  you?" 

"  I  am  Dick  Rafferty.  I  black  boots  in  the  Park," 
replied  Dick. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOT.  29 

"  Well,  I  haven't  got  any  money  to  pay  for 
blacking  boots." 

'*  I  didn't  expect  you  had.  I  hear  youi  boy  has 
left  you." 

"  Yes,  the  young  rascal !  He's  given  me  the  slip. 
I  expect  he's  robbed  me  too ;  but  I  can't  tell,  for 
I'm  blind." 

"Do  you  want  a  new  boy?" 

"  Yes ;  but  I  can't  pay  much.  I'm  very  poor. 
I  don't  think  the   place   will   suit  you." 

"Nor  I  either,"  said  Dick,  frankly.  "  I'd  rather 
make  a  living  outside.  But  I've  got  a  boy  with 
me  who  has  just  come  to  the  city,  and  is  out  of 
business.     I   guess  he'll   engage  with  you." 

"  What's  his  name?     Let  him  speak  for  himself." 

"My  name  is  Frank  Kavanagh,"  said  our  hero, 
in   a   clear,  distinct  voice. 

"How  old   are  you?" 

"Fifteen." 

"Do  }7ou   know   what  your   duties  will  be?" 

"Yes;   Dick   has   told   me." 

"I  told  him  you'd  want  him  to  go  round  on 
a  collecting  tour  with  you  every  day,"  sail  Dick. 


80  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  That  isn't  all.  You'll  have  to  buy  my  gro- 
ceries  and  all  I  need." 

"I  can  do  that,"  said  Frank,  cheerfully,  reflecting 
that  this  would  be  much  more  agreeable  than 
accompanying   the   old  man   round  the   streets. 

"Are  you  honest?"  queried  the  blind  man, 
sharply. 

Frank  answered,  with  an  indignant  flush,  "  I 
never  stole  a  cent  in  my   life." 

"I  supposed  you'd  say  that,"  retorted  the  blind 
man,  with  a  sneer.  "  They  all  do ;  but  a  good 
many   will   steal  for  all  that." 

"  If  you're  afraid  I  will,  you  needn't  hire  me," 
said  Frank,   independently. 

"  Of  course  I  needn't,"  said  Mills,  sharply  ;  "  but 
I  am  not  afraid.  If  you  take  any  of  my  money 
I   shall   be   sure   to  find   it  out,    if  I   am  blind." 

"Don't  mind  him,  Frank,"  said  Dick,  in  a  low 
voice. 

"What's  that?"  asked  the  blind  man,  suspi- 
ciously.    "What  are  jon  two  whispering  about?" 

"  I  told  Frank  not  to  mind  the  way  you  spoke," 
said  Dick. 


THE    TELEGRAPH   BOY.  81 

"Why  not?" 

"Because,  if  he's  honest,  it  don't  matter." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Mills,  partially  satisfied. 
'  Now   what  pay   do  you   expect  ? " 

"  I'll  leave  that  to  you,"  said  our  hero,  who 
felt  that  he  was  not  in  a  position  to  make  terms. 

This  answer  seemed  to  please   the   blind  man. 

"  Yes,  yes,  that  is  right.  I  can  tell  better  in 
a  week  what  I  can  afford  to  pay  you.  I'll  let  you 
come  and  try  how  you  suit  me." 

"Am  I  to  stay  here?"   asked  Frank. 

"  Yes ;  there's  a  bed  in  the  other  room.  Go  in 
and  see  it." 

The  boys  entered  an  inner  room,  where  there 
was  a  heap  of  rags  on  the  floor,  and  no  other 
article. 

"There's  your  bed,  Frank,"  said  Dick,  pointing 
to  the  rags. 

"Have  I  got  to  sleep  there?"  asked  Frank,  in  u 
tone  of  dissatisfaction. 

"Oh,  it'll  be  comfortable  enough,"  said  Dick, 
whose  street  life  had  cured  him  of  fastidiousness, 
if    he    had    ever  been    troubled    by    that    feeling. 


32  TBE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  If  you'd  slept  on  wharves  and  in  empty  wagons 
as  often   as  I  have  you  wouldn't  mind  that." 

"  1  guess  I  can  stand  it,"  said  Frank,  stifling 
his  dissatisfaction;  "but  I've  always  slept  in  a 
bed." 

"  Oh,  you'll  like  it  well  enough,"  said  Dick, 
carelessly.  "Well,  I  must  leave  you  now,  I've 
got  to   earn  my  supper." 

"Do  you  want  me  now,  sir?"  asked  Frank,  of 
his  new  master. 

"  Yes ;  I  want  you  to  get  me  something  to  eat. 
You  can  go  with  this  boy,  and  he'll  tell  you 
where   to   get  it." 

"What   shall  I  buy,   sir?" 

"Buy  a  loaf  of  bread  at  the  baker's,  and  a 
bottle  of  ale." 

"Yes,    sir." 

' '  You  can  pay  for  it,  and  I  will  pay  you  when 
you  get  back." 

"  I  have   no  money,"   said   Frank,   embarrassed. 

"No  money!"   snarled   the   blind   man. 

"No,  sir;  I  only  brought  twenty-five  cents  witb 
me,  and  that  I  have  spent." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  33' 

"  Your   friend   will   lend   you    some,    then." 

"Not  much,"  answered  Dick,  laughing.  -'I'm 
dead-broke.  Haven't  you  got  any  money,  Mr. 
Mills?" 

"I  have  a  little,"  grumbled  the  blind  man; 
"  but  this  boy  may  take  it,  and  never  come 
back." 

"If  you  think  so,"  said  Frank,  proudly,  "you'd 
better   engage   some   other   boy." 

"No  use;  you're  all  alike.  Wait  a  minute, 
and   I'll   give   3-011   some   money." 

He  drew  from  his  pocket  a  roll  of  scrip,  and 
handed   one   to   Frank. 

"  I  don't  think  that  will  be  enough,'*  said 
Frank.     "  It's  only   five   cents." 

"Are  you  sure  it  isn't  a  quarter?"  grumbled 
Mills. 

"Yes,    sir." 

"What  do  jtou   say,  —  you,   Dick?" 

"  It's   only   five   cents,    sir." 

"Is   that  twenty-five?" 

"Yes,    sir." 

"  Then   take   it,    and   mind  you   don't   loiter." 


34  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  Yes,    sir." 

"And   be   sure   to   bring  back  the   change." 

' '  Of  course  I  will,"  said  Frank  indignantly, 
resenting   his   employer's   suspicion. 

"What  do  you  think  of  him,  Frank?"  asked 
Dick,    as   they   descended   the   stairs. 

"  I  don't  like  him  at  all,  Dick,"  said  Frank, 
decidedly.  "I  wish  I  could  get  something  else 
to  do." 

"You  can,  after  a  while.  As  you  have  no 
capital    you   must  take   what  you   can   get     now." 

"  So  I  suppose ;  but  I  didn't  come  to  the  city 
f.*r   this." 

"  If  you  don't  like  it  you  can  leave  in  a  few 
days." 

This  Frank  fully  resolved  to  do  at  the  first 
favorable   opportunity. 

Dick  showed  him  where  he  could  buy  the 
articles  he  was  commissioned  to  purchase ;  and 
Frank,  after  obtaining  them,  went  back  to  the 
tenement-house. 

Mills  scrupulously  demanded  the  change,  and 
put  it  back  into  his  pocket.     Then  he  made  Frank 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  35 

pour   out    the    ale    into    a    glass.     This  he    drank 
with   apparent   zest,  but  offered  none  to  Frank. 

"Ale  isn't  good  for  boys,"  he  said.  "You  can 
cut  the  bread,  and  eat  two  slices.  Don't  cut  then 
too  thick." 

The  blind  man  ate  pome  of  the  bread  himself, 
and  then  requested  Frank  to  help  him  on  with 
his   coat   and   vest. 

"  I  haven't  taken  any  money  to-day,"  he  said 
"  I  must  try  to  collect  some,  or  I  shall  starve. 
It's  a  sad  thing  to  be  blind,"  he  continued,  his 
voice   changiDg   to   a  whine. 

"  You  don't  look  blind,"  said  Frank,  thought- 
fully.     "Your   eyes   are   open." 

"What  if  they  are?"  said  Mills,  testily.  "I 
cannot  see.  When  I  go  out  I  close  them ,  because 
the  light  hurts  them." 

Led  by  Frank,  the  blind  man  descended  the 
stairs,  and  emerged  into  the  street. 


86  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


PITT    THE    BLIND. 


"Where  shall  I  lead  you?"  asked  Frank. 

"To  Broadway  first.     Do  you  know  Broadway?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Be  careful  when  we  cross  the  street,  or  you 
will  have  me  run  over." 

"  All  right,  sir." 

"  If  any  one  asks  you  about  me,  say  I  am 
your  uncle." 

"  But  you  are  not." 

"  What  difference  does  that  make,  you  little, 
fool?"  said  the  blind  man,  roughly.  "Are  you 
ashamed  to  own  me  as  your  uncle?" 

Frank  felt  obliged,  out  of  politeness,  to  say 
"No;"  but  in  his  own  mind  he  was  not  quite 
sure  whether  he  would  be  willing  to  acknowledge 
any  relationship  to  the  disagreeable  old  man 
whom  he  was  leading. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY,  37 

They  reached  Broadway,  and  entered  a  store 
devoted  to  gentlemen's  furnishing  goods. 

"Charity  for  a  poor  blind  man  1 "  whined  Mills, 
in  the  tone  of  a  professional  beggar. 

"Look  here,  old  fellow,  you  come  in  here  too 
often,"  said  a  young  salesman.  "I  gave  you 
five  cents  yesterday." 

"  I  didn't  know  it,"  said  Mills.  "I  am  a  pool 
blind  man.     All  places  are  alike  to  me." 

"  Then  your  boy  should  know  better.  Nothing 
for  you  to-day." 

Frank  and  his  companion  left  the  store. 

In  the  next  they  were  more  fortunate.  A 
nickel  was  bestowed  upon  the  blind  mendicant. 

"How  much  is  it?"  asked  Mills,  when  they 
were  on  the  sidewalk. 

"  Five  cents,  sir." 

"That's  better  than  nothing,  but  we  ought  to 
do  better.  It  takes  a  good  many  five-cent  pieces 
to  make  a  dollar.  When  you  see  a  well-dressed 
lady  coming  along,  tell  me." 

Frank  felt  almost  as  much  ashamed  as  if  he 
were   himself  begging,  but  he   must   do   what    was 


38  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

expected  of  him.  Accordingly  he  very  soon 
notified  the  blind  man  that  a  lady  was  close  at 
hand. 

"  Lead  me  up  to  her,  and  say,  Can  you  spare 
something  for  my  poor,  blind  uncle  ? " 

Frank  complied  in  part,  but  instead  of ' '  poor, 
blind  uncle "  he  said  "  poor,  blind  man."  Mills 
scowled,  as  he  found  himself  disobeyed. 

"How  long  has  he  been  blind?"  asked  the  lady, 
S}7mpathetically. 

"  For  many  j'ears,"  whined  Mills. 

"Is  this  your  boy?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am ;  he  is  my  young  nephew,  from 
the  country." 

"You  are  fortunate  in  having  him  to  go  about 
with  you." 

"Yes,  ma'am;  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do 
without  him." 

"  Here  is  something  for  you,  my  good  man," 
said  the  lady,  and  passed  on. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am.     May  Heaven  bless  you  !  " 

"How  much  is  it?"  he  asked  quickly,  when 
the  lady  was  out  of  hearing. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  39 

14  Two  cents,"  answered  Frank,  suppressing  with 
difficult}'  an  inclination  to  laugh. 

"The  mean  jade!  I  should  like  to  wring  her 
neck ! "  muttered  Mills.  "  I  thought  it  was  a 
quarter,  at  least." 

In  the  next  store  they  did  not  meet  a  cordial 
reception. 

"Clear  out,  }rou  old  humbug!"  shouted  the 
proprietor,  who  was  in  ill-humor.  "  You  ought 
to  be  put  in  the  penitentiary  for  begging  about 
the  streets." 

"I  pray  to  God  that  you  may  become  blind 
yourself,"  said  Mills,  passionately. 

"  Out  of  my  store,  or  I'll  have  you  arrested, 
both  of  3Tou  !  "  said  the  angry  tradesman.  "  Here, 
you  boy,  dou't  jtou  bring  that  old  fraud  in 
this  store  again,  if  you  know  what's  best  for  your- 
self." 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  comply  with 
this  peremptory   order. 

"He's  a  beast!"  snarled  Mills;  "I'd  like  to 
put  his   eyes   out   myself." 

"  You  haven't    got    a    very    amiable    temper," 


40  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

thought    Frank.     "I   wouldn't    like   to    be    blind; 
but  even  if  I  were,  I  would  try  to  be  pleasanter." 

Two  young  girls,  passing  by,  noticed  the  blind 
man.  They  were  soft-hearted,  and  stopped  to 
inquire  how  long  he  had  been  blind. 

"Before  you  were  born,  my  pretty  maid,"  said 
Mills,   sighing. 

"  I  have  an  aunt  who  is  blind,"  said  one  of 
the  girls;  "but  she  is  not  poor,  like  you." 

"  I  am  very  poor,"  whined  Mills ;  "I  have 
not  money  enough  to  pay  my  rent,  and  I  may 
be  turned  out  into  the  street." 

"  How  sad ! "  said  the  young  girl,  in  a  tone 
of  deep  sympathy.  "  I  have  not  much  money, 
but  I  will  give  you  all  I  have." 

"  Ma}T  God  bless  you,  and  spare  your  eyes ! " 
said  Mills,  as  he  closed  his  hand  upon  the 
money. 

"How  much  is  it?"  he  asked  as  before,  when 
they  had   passed   on.  . 

"  Twenty-five  cents,"  said  Frank. 

"  That  is  better,"  said  Mills,  in  a  tone  of 
satisfaction. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    EOT.  41 

For  some  time  afterwards  all  applications  were 
-efused ;  in  some  cases,  roughly. 

"Why  don't  you  work?"  asked  one  man,  bluntly. 

"What  can  I  do?"  asked  Mills. 

"That's  your  lookout.  Some  blind  men  work. 
I  suppose  you  would  rather  get  your  living  by 
begging." 

' '  I  would  work  my  fingers  to  the  bone  if  I 
could  only  see,"  whined  Mills. 

' '  So  you  say ;  but  I  don't  believe  it.  At  any 
rate,  that  boy  of  yours  can  see.  Why  don't  you 
set  him  to  work?" 

"He  has  to  take  care  of  me." 

"  I  would  work  if  I  could  get  anything  to  do," 
said  Frank. 

As  he  spoke,  he  felt  his  hand  pressed  forcibly 
by  his  companion,  who  did  not  relish  his  answer. 

"I  cannot  spare  him,"  he  whined.  "He  has 
to  do  everything  for  me." 

When  they  were  again  in  the  street,  Mills  de 
manded,  roughly,  "What  did  you  mean  by  saying 
that?" 

"What,  sir?" 


42  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"That  30U  wanted  to  go  to  work." 

"Because  it  is  true." 

' '  You  are  at  work ;  you  are  working  for  me," 
said  Mills. 

"I  would  rather  work  in  a  store,  or  an  office, 
or  sell  papers." 

"That  wouldn't  do  me  any  good.  Don't  speak 
in  that  way  again." 

The  two  were  out  about  a  couple  of  hours,  and 
very  tiresome  Frank  found  it.  Then  Mills  indicated 
a  desire  to  go  home,  and  the}'  went  back  to  the 
room  in  the  old  tenement-house.  Mills  threw  him- 
self down  on  the  bed  in  the  corner,  and  heaved  a 
sigh  of  relief. 

"Now,  boy,  count  the  money  we  have  collected," 
he  said. 

"  There's  ninety-three  cents,"  Frank  announced. 

"If  I  had  known  it  was  so  near  a  dollar  we 
would  have  stayed  a  little  longer.  Now,  get  me  my 
pipe." 

"Where  is  it,  sir?" 

"In  the  cupboard.  Fill  it  with  tobacco,  and 
light  it." 


THE     TELE  a  RAPS     B  O  7.  48 

"Are  you  not  afraid  of  setting  the  bedding  on 
fire,  sir?" 

"  Mind  your  own  business.  If  I  choose  to  set 
it  on  fire,  I  will,"  snarled  Mills. 

"Very  well,    sir;  I  thought  I'd  mention  it." 

"You  have  mentioned  it,  and  you  needn't  do  it 
again." 

"  What  a  sweet  temper  you've  got ! "  thought 
Frank. 

He  sat  down  on  a  broken  chair,  and,  having 
nothing  else  to  do,  watched  his  employer.  "He 
looks  very  much  as  if  he  could  see,"  thought 
Frank ;   for   Mills   now  had   his   eyes  wide   open. 

"What  are  you  staring  at  me  for,  boy?"  de- 
manded his  emplo}Ter,  rather  unexpectedly. 

' '  What  makes  you  think  I  am  staring  at  you, 
sir?"  was  Frank's  natural  question.  "I  thought 
you  couldn't  see." 

"No  more  I  can,  but  I  can  tell  when  one  is 
staring  at  me.     It  makes  me  creep  all  over." 

"  Then  I'll  look  somewhere  else." 

"  Would  you  like  to  do  some  work,  as  you  said? " 

"Yes,  sir." 


14  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Then  take  twenty -five  cents,  and  buy  some 
evening  papers  and  sell  them ;  but  mind  you 
bring  the   money   to   me." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Frank,  with  alacrity. 

Anything  he  thought  would  be  better  than  sit- 
ting in  that  dull  room  with  so  disagreeable  a 
companion. 

"  Mind  you  don't  run  off*  with  the  money," 
said  the  blind  man,  sharply.  "If  you  do  I'll 
have  you  put  in  the  Tombs." 

"  I  don't  mean  to  run  away  with  the  money," 
retorted  Frank,  indignantly. 

"  And  when  you've  sold  the  papers,  come  home." 

"Yes,  sir." 

With  a  feeling  of  relief,  Frank  descended  the 
stairs  and  directed  his  steps  to  the  Park,  meaning 
to  ask  Dick  Rafferty's  advice  about  the  proper  way 
to  start  in  business  as  a  newsboy. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOT.  45 


CHAPTER    V. 

FRANK  THROWS    UP   HIS    SITUATION. 

Frank  found  his  friend  on  Park  Row,  and 
made   known   his   errand. 

"  So  old  Mills  wants  you  to  sell  papers  for 
his   benefit,  does  he  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I'd  rather  do  it  than  to  stay  with 
him." 

"How   much  has   he   agreed   to   pay  you?" 

"That   isn't   settled  yet." 

"You'd  better  bring  him  to  the  point,  or  he 
won't  pay  you  anything  except  board  and  lodg- 
ing,   and   mighty  mean   both  of  them   will   be." 

"  I  won't  say  anything  about  it  the  first  day," 
said  Frank.     "What  papers  shall  I  buy?" 

"It's  rather  late.  You'd  better  try  for  Tele- 
grams." 

Frank  did  so,  and  succeeded  in  selling  half  a 
dozen,    yielding    a    profit    of    six    cents.      It    was 


46  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

not  a  brilliant  beginning,  but  he  was  late  in  the 
field,  and  most  had  purchased  their  evening 
papers.  His  papers  sold,  Frank  went  home  and 
announced  the  result. 

"Umph!"  muttered  the  blind  man.  "Give  me 
the  money." 

"Here  it  is,   sir." 

"Have  you  given  me  all?"  sharply  demanded 
Mills. 

"  Of  course   I  have,"   said    Frank,    indignantly. 

"Don't  you  be  impudent,  or  I  will  give  you 
a   flogging,"   said   the   blind  man,  roughly. 

"I  am  not  used  to  be  talked  to  in  that  way," 
said  Frank,  independently. 

"You've  always  had  your  own  way,  I  suppose," 
snarled  Mills. 

"  No,  I  haven't ;  but  I  have  been  treated 
kindly." 

"  You  are  only  a  boy,  and  I  won't  allow  you 
to  talk  back  to  me.     Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  take   care   to  remember." 

"  You've     got     a     sweet     disposition,"     thought 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  47 

Frank.  "  I  won't  stay  with  you  anv  longer  than 
I  am  obliged  to." 

Several  days  passed  without  bringing  any  in- 
cidents worth  recording.  Frank  took  a  daily 
walk  with  the  blind  man,  sometimes  in  the 
morning,  sometimes  in  the  afternoon.  These 
walks  were  very  distasteful  to  him.  The  com- 
panion of  a  beggar,  he  felt  as  if  he  himself 
were  begging.  He  liked  better  the  time  he  spent 
in  selling  papers,  though  he  reaped  no  benefit 
himself.  In  fact,  his  wages  were  poor  enough. 
Thus  far  his  fare  had  consisted  of  dry  bread 
with  an  occasional  bun.  He  was  a  healthy, 
vigorous  boy,  and  he  felt  the  need  of  meat,  or 
some  other  hearty  food,  and  ventured  to  intimate 
as  much  to  his   employer. 

"So  you  want  meat,   do  you?"  snarled  Mills. 

"Yes,    sir;   I   haven't   tasted   any   for   a   week." 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  take  your  meals  at 
Delmonico's  ?  "  sneered  the  blind  man. 

Frank  was  so  new  to  the  city  that  this  well- 
known  name  did  not  convey  any  special  idea  to 
him,  and  he  answered  "Yes." 


48  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  That's  what  I  thought ! "  exclaimed  Mills, 
angrily.  "  You  want  to  eat  me  out  of  house  and 
home." 

"  No,  I  don't ;  I  only  want  enough  food  to 
keep  up  my  strength." 

"  Well,  you  are  getting  it.  I  give  you  all  I 
can  afford." 

Frank  was  inclined  to  doubt  this.  He  esti- 
mated that  what  he  ate  did  not  cost  his  employer 
over  six  or  eight  cents  a  day,  and  he  generally 
earned  for  him  twenty  to  thirty  cents  on  the 
sale  of  papers,  besides  helping  him  to  collect 
about  a  dollar  daily  from  those  who  pitied  his 
blindness. 

He  mentioned  his  grievance  to  his  friend,  Dick 
Rafferty. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  to  do,"  said  Dick. 

"  I   wish  you   would." 

"Keep  some  of  the  money  you  make  by  selling 
papers, x.  and  buy  a  square  meal  at  an  eatin' 
house." 

"  I  don't  like  to  do  that ;  it  wouldn't  be 
honest." 


TBE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  49 

"Why   wouldn't  it?" 

"1  am  carrying  on  the  business  for  Mr.  Mills. 
He  supplies  the  capital." 

"Then  you'd   better  carry  it  on  for  youiself." 

"I   wish  I  could." 

"Why  don't  you?" 

"  I  haven't    any   money." 

"  Has   he  paid  you   any   wages?" 

"  No." 

"Then  make  him." 

Frank  thought  this  a  good  suggestion.  He 
had  been  with  Mills  a  week,  and  it  seemed  fair 
enough  that  he  should  receive  some  pay  besides 
a  wretched  bed  and  a  little  dry  bread.  Accord- 
ingly, returning  to  the  room,  he  broached  the 
subject. 

"  What  do  you  want  wages  for?"  demanded  Mills, 
displeased. 

"  I  think  I  earn  them,"   said  Frank,  boldly. 

"  You  get  board  and  lodging.  You  are  better  off 
than   a  good  many   boys." 

"  I  shall  want  some  clothes,  some  time,"  said 
Frank. 


50  THE    TELEGRAPH    ROY. 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  have  me  pay  you  a  dollai 
a  day,"  said  Mills. 

"  I  know  you  can't  afford  to  pay  me  that.  I  will 
be  satisfied  if  you  will  pay  me  ten  cents  a  day." 
replied  Frank. 

Frank  reflected  that,  though  this  was  a  very  small 
sum,  in  ten  days  it  would  give  him  a  dollar,  and 
then  he  would  feel  justified  in  setting  up  a  business 
on  his  own  account,  as  a  newsboy.  He  anxiously 
awaited   an  answer. 

"I  will  think  of  it,"  said  the  blind  man  eva- 
sively, and   Frank   did  not  venture  to  say  more. 

The  next  day,  when  Mills,  led  by  Frank,  was  on 
his  round,  the  two  entered  a  cigar-store.  Frank  was 
much  surprised  when  the  cigar-vender  handed  him  a 
fifty-cent  currency  note.  He  thought  there  was  some 
mistake. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said;  "but  did  you  mean 
to  give   me   fifty   cents  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  the  cigar-vender,  laughing;  "  but  I 
wouldn't  have   done   it,  if  it  had  been  good." 

"Isn't   it   good?" 

"No,  it's  a  counterfeit,  and  a  pretty  bad  one.     ] 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  51 

might  pass  it,  but  it  would  cost  me  too  much  time 
and   trouble." 

Frank  was  confounded.  He  mechanically  handed 
the  money  to  Mills,  but  did  not  again  thank  the 
giver.  When  they  returned  to  the  tenement-house, 
Mills  requested  Frank  to  go  to  the  baker's  for  a  loaf 
of  bread. 

"Yes,   sir." 

"Here   is   the   money." 

"But  that  is  the  counterfeit  note,"  said  Frank, 
scrutinizing .  the   bill   given  him. 

"What  if  it   is?"  demanded  Mills,  sharply. 

"It  won't  pass." 

"  Yes,   it  will,   if  you  are   sharp." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  pass  counterfeit  money,  Mr. 
Mills?" 

"  Yes,  I  do ;  I  took  it,  and  I  mean  to  get  rid 
of  it." 

"But  you   didn't   give   anything  for   it." 

"  That's  neither  here  nor  there.  Take  it,  and  offer 
it  to  the  baker.  If  he  won't  take  it,  go  to  another 
baker  with  it." 

"  I  would  rather  not  do  it,"  said  Frank,  firmly 


52  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Rather  not!"  exclaimed  Mills,  angi/ly.  "Do 
you   pretend   to   dictate  to  me?" 

"  No,  I  don't,  but  I  don't  mean  to  pass  any  coun 
terfeit  money  for  you  or  any  other  man,"  said  Frank, 
with   spirit. 

Mills  half  rose,  with  a  threatening  gesture,  but 
thought   better   of  it. 

"You're  a  fool,"  said  he.  "I  suppose  you  are 
afraid  of  being  arrested ;  but  you  have  only  to  say 
that  I  gave  it  to  you,  and  that  I  am  blind,  and 
couldn't   tell   it  from   good   money." 

"  But  you  know  that  it  is  bad  money,  Mr.  Mills." 

"  What  if  I  do?  No  one  can  prove  it.  Take  the 
money,  and   come   back   as   quick  as  you  can." 

"You  must  excuse  me,"  said  Frank,  quietly,  but 
firmly. 

"Do  you  refuse  to  do  as  I  bid  you?"  de- 
manded  Mills,  furiously. 

"I   refuse   to   pass   counterfeit   money." 

•'  Then,   by   Heaven,    I'll   flog  you !  " 

Mills  rose  and  advanced  directly  towards  Frank, 
with  his  eyes  wide  open.  Fortunately  our  hero  was 
near  the   door,  and,  quickly  opening  it,  darted  from 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  53 

the  room,  pursued  by  Mills,  his  face  flaming  with 
wrath.  It  flashed  upon  Frank  that  no  blind  man 
could  have  done  this.  He  decided  that  the  man 
was  a  humbug,  and  could  see  a  little,  at  all  events. 
His  blindness  was  no  doubt  assumed  to  enable 
him  to  appeal  more  effectively  to  the  sympathizing 
public.  This  revelation  disgusted  Frank.  He  could 
not  respect  a  man  who  lived  by  fraud.  Counterfeit 
or  no  counterfeit,  he  decided  to  withdraw  at  once 
and  forever  from  the  service  of  Mr.  Mills. 

His  employer  gave  up  the  pursuit  before  he 
reached  the  street.  Frank  found  himself  on  the 
sidewalk,  free  and  emancipated,  no  richer  than  when 
he  entered  the  service  of  the  blind  man,  except  in 
experience. 

"I  haven't  got  a  cent,"  he  said  to  himself,  "but 
I'll   get   along  somehow." 


54  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


FRANK   GETS    A   JOB. 


Though  Frank  was  penniless  lie  was  not  cast 
down.  He  was  tolerably  familiar  with  the  lower 
part  of  the  city,  and  had  greater  reliance  on  him- 
self than  he  had  a  week  ago.  If  he  had  only  had 
capital  to  the  extent  of  fifty  cents  he  would  have 
felt  quite  at  ease,  for  this  would  have  set  him 
up   as   a   newsboy. 

"I  wonder  if  I  could  borrow  fifty  cents  of  Dick 
Rafferty,"  considered  Frank.     "  I'll  try,  at  any  rate." 

He  ran  across  Dick  in  City-Hall  Park.  That 
young  gentleman  was  engaged  in  pitching  pennies 
with  a  brother  professional. 

"  I  say,  Dick,  I  want  to  speak  to  you  a 
minute,"   said   Frank. 

"All  right!     Go  ahead!" 

"I've  lost  my  place." 

Dick  whistled. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  55 

"Got  sacked,  have  you?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes ;   but  I  might  have  stayed." 

"Why   didn't  you?" 

"  Mills  wanted  me  to  pass  a  counterfeit  note, 
and  I  wouldn't." 

"Was  it  a  bad-looking  one?" 

"  Yes." 

"Then  you're  right.  You  might  have  got 
nabbed." 

"  That  wasn't  the  reason  I  refused.  If  I  had 
been  sure  there'd  have  been  no  trouble  I  wouldn't 
have  done  it." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Dick,  who  did  not  under- 
stand  our   hero's   scruples. 

"  Because   it's   wrong." 

Dick   shrugged   his   shoulders. 

"  I  guess  you  belong  to   the   church,"   he   said. 

"No,   I   don't;   what   makes  you  think   so?" 

"  Oh,  'cause  you're  so  mighty  particular.  I 
wouldn't  mind  passing  it  if  I  was  sure  I  wouldn't 
be   cotched." 

"  I  think  it's  almost  as  bad  as  stealing  to  buy 
bread,  or  anything  else,   and  give  what  isn't  worth 


56  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

anything  for  it.  Yon  might  as  well  give  a  piece 
of  newspaper." 

Though  Frank  was  unquestionably  right  he 
did  not  succeed  in  making  a  convert  of  Dick  Raf- 
ferty.  Dick  was  a  pretty  good  boy,  considering 
the  sort  of  training  he  had  had ;  but  passing  bad 
money  did  not  seem  to  him  objectionable,  unless 
"a  fellow  was   cotched,"   as   he   expressed   it. 

""Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  now?  "  asked 
Dick,  after  a  pause. 

"  I  guess  I  can  get  a  living  by  selling  papers." 

"You  can  get  as  good  a  livin'  as  old  Mills  gave 
you.  You'll  get  a  better  bed  at  the  lodgin'-house 
than  that  heap  of  rags  you  laid  on  up   there." 

"But  there's  one  trouble,"  continued  Frank,  "I 
haven't  any  money  to  start  on.  Can  you  lend 
me   fifty   cents  ?  " 

"  Fifty  cents  !  "  repeated  Dick.  "  What  do  you 
take  me  for?  If  I  was  connected  with  Vander- 
built  or  Astor  I  might  set  you  up  in  business, 
but  now  I   can't." 

"Twenty-five   cents   will   do,"    said  Frank. 

"  Look   here,   Frank,"   said    Dick,   plunging    his 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  57 

hands  into  his  pocket,  and  drawing  therefrom 
three  pennies  and  a   nickel,    "do  you   see   them?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,    it's   all  the   money   I've   got." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  been  extravagant,  Dick,'' 
said  Frank,    in   disappointment. 

u  Last  night  I  went  to  Tony  Pastor's,  and  when 
I  got  through  I  went  into  a  saloon  and  got  an  ice- 
cream and  a  cigar.  You  couldn't  expect  a  feller 
to  be  very  rich  after  that.  I  say,  I'll  lend  you 
five   cents   if  }'ou    want   it." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Dick.  I'll  wait  till  you  are 
richer." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  Frank,  I'll  save  up  my 
mone}',  and  by  day  after  to-morrow  I  guess  I 
can   set  you   up." 

"Thank  3Tou,  Dick.  If  I  don't  have  the  money 
by   that   time   myself  I'll  accept  your  offer." 

There  was  no  other  boy  with  whom  Frank  felt 
sufficiently  well  acquainted  to  request  a  loan,  and 
he  walked  away,  feeling  rather  disappointed.  It 
was  certainly  provoking  to  think  that  nothing  but 
the   lack  of    a    small    sum    stood   between   him   and 


58  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

remunerative  employment.  Once  started  he  deter- 
mined not  to  spend  quite  all  his  earnings,  but  to 
improve  upon  his  friend  Dick's  practice,  and,  if 
possible,   get   a   little   ahead. 

When  guiding  the  blind  man  he  often  walked 
up  Broadway,  and  mechanically  he  took  the  same 
direction,  walking  slowly  along,  occasionally  stop- 
ping to  look  in  at  a  shop-window. 

As  he  was  sauntering  along  he  found  himself 
behind  two  gentlemen,  —  one  an  old  man,  who 
wore  gold  spectacles ;  the  other,  a  stout,  pleasant- 
looking  man,  of  middle  age.  Frank  would  not 
have  noticed  them  particularly  but  for  a  sudden 
start  and  exclamation  from  the  elder  of  the  two 
gentlemen. 

"  I  declare,  Thompson,"  he  said,  "  I've  left 
my.  umbrella  down-town." 

"Where  do  you  think  you  left  it?" 

"  In  Peckham's  office ;  that  is,  I  think  I  left 
it  there." 

"Oh,  well,  he'll  save  it  for  you." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  Some  visitor  may 
carry   it   away ." 


THE     TELEORAPH    BOY.  59 

"  Never  mind,  Mr.  Bowen.  You  are  rich 
enough  to  afford  a  new  one." 

"  It  isn't  the  value  of  the  article,  Thompson," 
said  his  friend,  in  some  emotion.  "  That  um- 
brella was  brought  me  from  Paris  by  my  son 
John,  who  died.  It  is  as  a  souvenir  of  him  that  I 
regard  and  value  it.  I  would  not  lose  it  for  a 
hundred  dollars,  nay,  five  hundred." 

"  If  you  value  it  so  much,  sir,  suppose  we 
turn  round  and  go  back  for  it." 

Frank  had  listened  to  this  conversation,  and 
an  idea  struck  him.  Pressing  forward,  he  said 
respectfully,  "Let  me  go  for  it,  sir.  I  will  get 
it,  and  bring  it  to  your  house." 

The  two  gentlemen  fixed  their  eyes  upon  the 
bright,  eager  face  of  the  petitioner. 

"Who  are  you,  my  boy?"  asked  Mr.  Thompson. 

"  I  am  a  poor  boy,  in  want  of  work,"  an- 
swered our  hero  promptly. 

"What  is  your   name?" 

"  Frank   Kavanagh." 

"Where   do   you   live?" 

"  I  am  trying  to  live  in  the  city,  sir." 


60  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  What   have  you   been   doing  ? " 

"  Leading   a   blind   man,    sir." 

"Not  a  very  pleasant  employment,  I  should 
judge,"  said  Thompson,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 
"Well,  have  you  lost  that  job?" 

"Yes,   sir." 

"So  the  blind  man  turned  you  off,  did  he?" 

"Yes,    sir." 

"Your  services  were  unsatisfactoiy,  I  suppose?" 

"  lie  wanted  me  to  pass  counterfeit  money  for 
him,  and  I  refused." 

"  If  that  is  true,  it  is  to  your  credit." 

"It  is  true,  sir,"  said  Frank,  quietly. 

"Come,  Mr.  Bowen,  what  do  you  say, —  shall 
we  accept  this  bo3r's  services?  It  will  save  you 
time  and  trouble." 

"If  I  were  sure  he  could  be  trusted,"  said 
Bowen,  hesitating.  "  He  might  pawn  the  umbrella. 
It  is  a  valuable  one." 

"  I  hope,  sir,  you  won't  think  so  badly  of  me 
as  that,"  said  Frank,  with  feeling.  "  If  I  were 
willing  to  steal  anything,  it  would  not  be  a  gift 
from  your  dead  son." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  61 

"I'll  trust  you,  my  boy,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman quickly.  "  Your  tone  convinces  me  that 
you  may  be  relied  upon." 

"  Thank   you,    sir." 

The  old  gentleman  drew  a  card  from  Ma 
pocket,  containing  his  name  and  address,  and  on 
the  reverse  side  wrote  the  name  of  the  friend  at 
whose  office  he  felt  sure  the  umbrella  had  been 
left,  with  a  brief  note  directing  that  it  be  handed 
to  the  bearer. 

"All  right,  sir." 

"  Stop  a  moment,  my  boy.  Have  you  got 
money  to  ride?" 

"No,    sir." 

"  Here,  take  this,  and  go  down  at  once  in  the 
next   stage.     The  sooner  you  get  there  the  better." 

Frank  followed  directions.  He  stopped  the  next 
stage,  and  got  on  board.  As  he  passed  the  City- 
Hall  Park,  Dick  Rafferty  espied  him.  Frank- 
nodded  to  him. 

"  How  did  he  get  money  enough  to  ride  in  a 
'bus?"  Dick  asked  himself  in  much  wonderment. 
"  A   few   minutes    ago  he   wanted   to   borrow  some 


62  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

money  of   me,   and  now    he's  spending    ten  cents 
for  a  ride.     Maybe  he's  found  a  pocket-book." 

Frank  kept  on  his  way,  and  got  out  at  "Wall 
street.  He  found  Mr.  Peckham's  office,  and  on 
presenting  the  card,  much  to  his  delight,  the 
umbrella   was   handed   him. 

"Mr.  Bowen  was  afraid  to  trust  me  with  it 
over  night,"  said  Mr.  Peckham,  with  a  smile. 

"  He  thought  some  visitor  might  carry  it  off," 
said  Frank. 

"  Not      unlikely.      Umbrellas     are      considered 
common   property." 

Frank  hailed  another  stage,  and  started  on  his 
way  up-town.  There  was  no  elevated  railway 
then,  and  this  was  the  readiest  conveyance,  as 
Mr.  Bowen  lived  on  Madison  avenue. 


TBS    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  68 


CHAPTER  VII. 


AN   INVITATION    TO    DINNER. 


"Mr.  Bowen  must  be  a  rich  man,"  thought 
Frank,  as  he  paused  on  the  steps  of  a  fine  brown- 
stone  mansion,  corresponding  to  the  number  on 
his   card. 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  asked,  "  Is  Mr.  Bowen 
at  home?" 

"  Yes,  but  he  is  in  his  chamber.  I  don't  think 
he  will  see  you." 

"I  think  he  will,"  said  Frank,  who  thought 
the  servant  was  taking  too  much  upon  herself, 
"as   I   come   by   his   appointment." 

"I  suppose  you  can  come  into  the  hall,"  said 
the  servant,  reluctantly.  "  Is  your  business  im 
portant  ?  " 

"  You  may  tell  him  that  the  boy  he  sent  for 
his  umbrella  has  brought  it.  He  was  afraid  he 
had  lost  it." 


64  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"He  sets  great  store  by  that  umbrella,"  said 
the  girl,  in  a  different  tone.  "  I'll  go  and  tell 
him." 

Mr.  Bowen  came  downstairs  almost  immediately 
There  was  a  look  of  extreme  gratification  upon  his 
face. 

"Bless  my  soul,  how  quick  you  were!"  he 
exclaimed.  "Why,  I've  only  been  home  a  few 
minutes.  Did  you  find  the  umbrella  at  Mr.  Peck- 
ham's  office?" 

"Yes,  sir;  it  had  been  found,  and  taken  care 
of." 

"Did   Peckham   say   anything?" 

",He  said  you  were  probably  afraid  to  trust  it 
with  him  over  night,  but  he  smiled  when  he 
said  it." 

"Peckham  will  have  his  joke,  but  he  is  an  ex- 
cellent man.  My  boy,  I  am  much  indebted  to 
you." 

"  I  was  very  glad  to  do  the  errand,  sir,"  said 
Frank. 

"I  think  you  said  you  were  poor,"  said  the  old 
man,    thoughtfully. 


TBB     TELEGRAPH    BOt.  65 

•'  Yes,  sir.  When  I  met  you  I  hadn't  a  cent 
In   the   world." 

"Haven't  jtou   any   way   to   make   a   living?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  I  could  sell  papers  if  I  had  enough 
money   to   set  me  up   in   business." 

"Does   it  require   a   large   capital?" 

"  Oh,  no,  sir,"  said  Frank,  smiling,  "  unless  you 
consider  fifty   cents   a  large   sum." 

"Fifty  cents!"  repeated  the  old  gentleman,  in 
surprise.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  this  small 
sum   would   set  you   up  in   business?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  could  buy  a  small  stock  of  papers, 
and   buy  more    with   what   I   received   for    them." 

"To  be   sure.     I  didn't  think   of  that." 

Mr.  Bowen  was  not  a  man  of  business.  He 
had  an  ample  income,  and  his  tastes  were  literary 
and  artistic.  He  knew  more  of  books  than  of 
men,    and   more   of  his   study   than   of    the   world. 

"Well,  my  boy,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  "how 
much   do   I   owe  you   for   doing    this   errand?" 

"  I  leave  that  to  you,  sir.  Whatever  you  think 
right   will   satisfy   me." 

"  Let    me     see,    you    want    fifty    cents    to    buy 


66  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

papers,  and  you  will  require  something  to  paj 
for  your  bed." 

"Fifty   cents   in   all  will   be   enough,    sir." 

"I  think  I  had  better  give  you  a  dollar,"  said 
the   old  gentleman,   opening   his   pocket-book. 

Frank's  eyes  sparkled.  A  dollar  would  do  him 
a  great  deal  of  good ;  with  a  dollar  he  would 
feel   quite   independent. 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said.  "It  is  more  than 
I   earned,   but  it  will    be   very   acceptable." 

He  put  on  his  hat,  and  was  about  to  leave 
the  house,  when  Mr.  Bowen  suddenly  said,  w  Oh, 
I  think  3?ou'd  better  stay  to  dinner.  It  will  be 
on  the  table  directly.  My  niece  is  away,  and  if 
you   don't   stay   I   shall   be   alone." 

Frank  did  not  know  what  to  say.  He  was 
rather  abashed  by  the  invitation,  but,  as  the  old 
gentleman  was  to  be  alone,  it  did  not  seem  so 
formidable. 

"I   am   afraid   I   don't   look   fit,"   he   said. 

"  You  can  go  upstairs  and  wash  your  face  and 
hands.  You'll  find  a  clothes-brush  there  also. 
I'll  ring  for  Susan  to  show   you  the  way." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  67 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  the  girl  who  had  ad- 
mitted  Frank  made   her   appearance. 

"Susan,"  said  her  master,  "you  may  show 
this  young  gentlemen  into  the  back  chamber  on  the 
third  floor,  and  see  that  he  is  supplied  with  towels 
and  all  he  needs.  And  you  may  lay  an  extra 
plate ;   he   will   dine   with    me." 

Susan  stared  first  at  Mr.  Bowen,  and  then  at 
Frank,  but  did  not  venture  to  make  any  re- 
mark. 

"This  way,  young  man,"  she  said,  and  ascended 
the   front   stairs,   Frank   following   her  closely. 

She  led  the  way  into  a  handsonieby  furnished 
chamber,  ejaculating,    ""Well,    I   never!" 

"I  hope  3'ou'll  find  things  to  your  satisfaction, 
sir,"  she  said,  dryly.  "  If  we'd  known  you  were 
coming,  we'd  have  made  particular  preparations  for 

you." 

"  Oh,  I  think  this  will  do,"  said  Frank,  smiling 
for   he   thought  it   a   good  joke. 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  it'll  do,"  continued  Susan. 
"  Things  mayn't  be  as  nice  as  you're  accustomed 
to  at  home." 


68  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Not  quite,"  said  Frank,  good-humoredly ;  "but 
I   shan't   complain." 

"That's  very  kind  and  considerate  of  you,  I'm 
sure,"  said  Susan,  tossing  her  head.  "Well,  I 
never  did ! " 

"  Nor  I  either,  Susan,"  said  Frank,  laughing. 
"  I  am  a  poor  boy,  and  I  am  not  used  to  this 
way  of  living ;  so  if  you'll  be  kind  enough  to 
give  me  any  hints,  so  I  may  behave  properly  at 
the   table,   I'll  be   very   much   obliged   to  you." 

This  frank  acknowledgment  quite  appeased  Susan, 
and  she  readily  complied  with  our  hero's  request. 

"But  I  must  be  going  downstairs,  or  dinner  will 
be  late,"  she  said,  hurriedly.  "  You  can  come 
down   when   you  hear   the   bell  ring." 

Frank  had  been  well  brought  up,  though  not 
in  the  cit}',  and  he  was  aware  that  perfect  neat- 
ness was  one  of  the  first  characteristics  of  a  gen- 
leman.  He  therefore  scrubbed  his  face  and  hands 
till  they  fairly  shone,  and  brushed  his  clothes  with 
great  care.  Even  then  they  certainly  did  look 
rather  shabby,  and  there  was  a  small  hole  in  the 
elbow   of  his   coat ;  but,   on   the  whole,   he   looked 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  69 

quite  passable  when  he  entered  the  dining- 
room. 

"  Take   that   seat,  my  boy,"   said  his  host. 

Frank  sat  down  and  tried  to  look  as  if  he  was 
used   to   it. 

"Take  this  soup  to  Mr.  Kavanagh,"  said  Mr. 
Bowen,    in   a  dignified    tone. 

Frank  started  and  smiled  slightly,  feeling  more 
and  more   that   it  was  an   excellent  joke. 

•  •  1  wonder  what  Dick  Rafferty  would  say  if  ha 
could    see  me  now,"   passed   through  his  mind. 

He  acquitted  himself  very  creditably,  however, 
and  certainly  displayed  an  excellent  appetite,  much 
to  the  satisfaction  of  his  hospitable  host. 

After  dinner  was  over,  Mr.  Bowen  detained  him 
and  began  to  talk  of  his  dead  son,  telling  anec- 
dotes of  his  boyhood,  to  which  Frank  listened  with 
respectful  attention,  for  the  father's  devotion  was 
touching. 

"  I  think  my  boy  looked  a  little  like  you," 
said  the  old  gentleman.  "  "What  do  you  think, 
Susan?" 

"Not  a  mite,  sir,"   answered  Susan,  promptly. 


70  THE     TELEQRArn    BOY. 

'  When   he   was   a   boy,   I   mean." 
"  I   didn't   know   him  when  he   was   a   boy,    Mr 
Bowen." 

"  No,   to   be  sure   not." 

"But  Mr.  John  was  dark-complected,  and  this 
boy  is  light,  and  Mr.  John's  hair  was  black,  and 
his  is  brown." 

"I  suppose  I  am  mistaken,"  sighed  the  old 
man;  "but  there  was  something  in  the  boy's  face 
that  reminded  me  of  John." 

"  A  little  more,  and  he'll  want  to  adopt  him," 
thought  Susan.  "  That  wouldn't  do  nohow,  though 
he  does  really  seem  like  a  decent  sort  of  a 
boy." 

At  eight  o'clock  Frank  rose,  and  wished  Mr. 
Bowen  good-night. 

"  Come  and  see  me  again,  my  boy,"  said  the 
old  gentleman,  kindly.  "You  have  been  a  good 
deal   of  company  for  me   to-night." 

"  I   am   glad   of  it,  sir." 

"I  think  you  might  find  something  better  to  do 
than   selling  papers." 

"  I  wish  I  could,   sir." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  71 

"  Come  and  dine  with  me  again  this  day  week, 
and  I   may  have    something  to   tell  you." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

Feeling  in  his  pocket  to  see  that  his  dollar  was 
Bale,  Frank  set  out  to  walk  down-town,  repairing 
to  the  lodging-house,  where  he  met  Dick,  and 
astonished  that  young  man  by  the  recital  of  his 
adventures. 

"It  takes  you  to  get  round,  Frank,"  he  said. 
1 '  I  wonder  I  don't  get  invited  to  dine  on  Madison 
avenue." 

"  I   give   it  up,"    said   Frank. 


72  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


A    NEWSBOY  S    EXPERIENCES. 


Frank  slept  that  night  at  the  lodging-house,  and 
found  a  much  better  bed  than  he  had  been  pro- 
vided with  by  his  late  emplo}7er.  He  was  up 
bright  and  early  the  next  morning,  and  purchased 
a  stock  of  morning  papers.  These  he  succeeded 
in  selling  during  the  forenoon,  netting  a  profit  of 
thirty  cents.  It  was  not  much,  but  he  was  sat- 
isfied. At  any  rate  he  was  a  good  deal  better 
off  than  when  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Mills.  Of 
course  he  had  to  economize  strictly,  but  the  ex- 
cellent arrangements  of  the  lodging-house  helped 
him  to  do  this.  Twelve  cents  provided  him  with 
lodging  and  breakfast.  At  noon,  in  company 
with  his  friend  Dick,  he  went  to  a  cheap  restau- 
rant, then  to  be  found  in  Ann  street,  near  Park 
row,  and  for  fifteen  cents  enjoyed  a  dinner  of  two 
courses.     The   first  consisted   of    a   plate    of   beef, 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  73 

with  a  potato  and  a  wedge  of  bread,  costing  ten 
cents,  and  the  second,  a  piece  of  apple-pie. 

"That's  a  good  square  meal,"  said  Dick,  in  a 
tone  of  satisfaction.  "I  oughter  get  one  every 
day,  but  sometimes  I  don't  have  the  money." 

"  I  should  think  you  could  raise  fifteen  cents 
a  day  for  that  purpose,  Dick." 

"  Well,  so  I  could ;  but  then  you  see  I  save 
my  money  sometimes  to  go  to  the  Old  Bowery, 
or  Tony  Pastor's,  in  the  evenin'." 

"  I  would  like  to  go,  too,  but  I  wouldn't  give 
up  my  dinner.  A  boy  that's  growing  needs  enough 
to  eat." 

"  I  guess  you're  right,"  said  Dick.  "  We'll  go 
to  dinner  together  every  day,  if  you  say  so." 

"  All  right,  Dick ;  I  should  like  your  company." 

About  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  as  Frank 
was  resting  on  a  bench  in  the  City-Hall  Park,  a 
girl  of  ten  approached  him.  Frank  recognized  her 
as  an  inmate  of  the  tenement-house  where  Mills, 
his  late  employer,  lived. 

"Do  you  want  to  see  me?"  asked  Frank,  ob- 
serving that  she  was  looking  towards  him. 


74  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  You're  the  boy  that  went  round  with  the 
blind  man,   aint  you?"   she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"  He  wants  you  to  come  back."" 

Frank  was  rather  surprised,  but  concluded  that 
Mills  had  difficulty  in  obtaining  a  boy  to  succeed 
him.  This  was  not  very  remarkable,  considering 
the  niggardly  pay  attached  to  the  office. 

"Did  he  send  you  to  find  me?"  asked  our 
hero. 

"Yes;  he  says  you  needn't  pass  that  money  if 
you'll  come  back." 

"  Tell  him  that  I  don't  want  to  come  back," 
said  Frank,  promptly.  "I  can  do  better  working 
for   myself." 

"He  wants  to  know  what  you  are  doing,"  con- 
tinued  the   girl. 

"Does  he?  You  can  tell  him  that  I  am  a 
newsboy." 

"He  says  if  you  don't  come  back  he'll  have 
you  arrested  for  stealing  money  from  him.  You 
mustn't  be  mad  with  me.  That's  what  he  told 
me  to  say." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    SOT.  75 

"  1  don't  blame  you,"  said  Frank,  hotly ;  "  but 
you  can  tell  kim  that  he  is  a  liar." 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  dare  to  tell  him  that;  he  would 
beat  me." 

"How  can  he  do  that,  when  he  can't  see  where 
you  are  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  he  can  go  right 
up  to  where  you  are  just  as  well  as  if  he  could 
see." 

"  So  he  can.  He's  a  humbug  and  a  fraud. 
His  e}7es  may  not  be  very  good,  but  he  can  see 
for  all  that.  He  pretends  to  be  blind  so  as  to 
make  money." 

"That's  what  mother  and  I  think,"  said  the 
girl.     "So  you  won't  come  back?" 

"Not  much.  He  can  hire  some  other  boy,  and 
starve  him.     He  won't  get  me." 

"  Aint  you  afraid  he'll  have  you  arrested  for 
stealing?"  asked  the  girl. 

"If  he  tries  that  I'll  expose  him  for  wanting 
me  to  pass  a  counterfeit  note.  I  never  took  a 
cent  from  him." 

"He'll  be  awful  mad,"   said  the   little   girl 


76  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  Let  him.  If  he  had  treated  me  decently  1 
would  have  stayed  with  him.  Now  I'm  glad  I  left 
him." 

Mills  was  indeed  furious  when,  by  degrees,  he 
had  drawn  from  his  young  messenger  what  Frank 
fsad  2aid.  He  was  sorry  to  lose  him,  for  he  was 
tno  most  truthful  and  satisfactory  guide  he  had 
evei  employed,  and  he  now  regretted  that  he  had 
driven  him  away  by  his  unreasonable  exactions. 
He  considered  whether  it  would  be  worth  while 
to  have  Frank  arrested  on  a  false  charge  of  theft, 
but  was  restrained  by  the  fear  that  he  would  him- 
self be  implicated  in  passing  counterfeit  money, 
that  is,  in  intention.  He  succeeded  in  engaging 
another  boy,  who  really  stole  from  him,  and 
finally  secured  a  girl,  for  whose  services,  how- 
ever, he  was  obliged  to  pay  her  mother  twenty 
cents  every  time  she  went  out  with  him.  Mean 
and  miserly  as  he  was,  he  agreed  to  this  with 
reluctance,  and  only  as  a  measure  of  necessity. 

As  he  became  more  accustomed  to  his  new  occu- 
pation Frank  succeeded  better.  He  was  a  boy  of 
considerable  energy,  and  was  on  the  alert  for  cus- 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOT.  77 

tonjers.  It  was  not  loug  before  his  earnings 
exceeded  those  of  Dick  Rafferty,  who  was  inclined 
to   take   things  easily. 

One  evening  Dick  was  lamenting  that  he  could  not 
go   to   the   Old   Bowery. 

"  There's  a  bully  play,  Frank,''"  he  said.  "  There's 
a  lot  of  fightin'  in  it." 

"What   is   it   called,  Dick?" 

"  '  The  Scalpers  of  the  Plains.'  There's  five  men 
murdered  in  the  first  act.     Oh,  it's  elegant ! " 

"Why  don't  you  go,  then,  Dick?" 

"Cause  I'm  dead-broke  —  busted.  That's  why. 
I  aint  had  much  luck  this  week,  and  it  took  all  my 
money  to  pay  for  my  lodgin's  and  grub." 

' '  Do  you  want  very  much  to  go  to  the  theatre, 
Dick?" 

' '  Of  course  I  do  ;  but  it  aint  no  use.  My  credit 
aint  good,  and  I  haint  no  money  in  the  bank." 

' '  How   much   does   it  cost  ? " 

"  Fifteen   cents,    in  the  top  gallery." 

"Can   you  see  there?" 

"  Yes,  it's  rather  high  up  ;  but  a  feller  with  good 
eyes   can   see   all   he   wants   to   there." 


78  THE     TELEGRAP3    BOY. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,  Dick.  You  have  been 
a  good  friend  to.  rue,  and  I'll  take  you  at  my 
expense." 

'•You  will?     To-night?" 

"  Yes." 

"  You're  a  reg'lar  trump.  We'll  have  a  stavin' 
time.  Sometime,  when  I'm  flush,  I'll  return  the 
compliment."     ■ 

So  the  two  boys  weut.  The}-  were  at  the  doors 
early,  and  secured  a  front  seat  in  the  gallery.  The 
performance  was  well  adapted  to  please  the  taste  of 
a  bo}',  and  they  enjoyed  it  exceedingly.  Dick  was 
uproarious  in  his  applause  whenever  a  man  was 
killed. 

"  Seems  to  me  you  like  to  see  men  killed,  Dick," 
said   his   friend. 

"  Yes,    it's    kinder   excitin'." 

"  I  don't  like  that  part  so  well  as  some  others,' 
said  Frank. 

"It's  a  stavin'  play,  aint  it?"  asked  Dick, 
greatly  delighted . 

Frank  assented. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  Frank,"  said  Dick;   "  I'd  like 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  79 

to  be  a  hunter  and  roam  round  the  plains,  killin' 
bears   and  Injuns." 

"  Suppose  they  should  kill  you?  That  wouldn't 
suit  you   so   well,    would   it?" 

"No,  I  guess  not.  But  I'd  like  to  be  a  hunter, 
wouldn't  3rou?" 

"  No,  I  would  rather  live  in  New  York.  I  would 
like  to  make  a  journey  to  the  West  if  I  had  money 
enough ;  but  I  would  leave  the  hunting  to  other 
men." 

Dick,  however,  did  not  agree  with  his  more  sen- 
sible companion.  Many  boys  like  him  are  charmed 
with  the  idea  of  a  wild  life  in  the  forest,  and  some 
have  been  foolish  enough  to  leave  good  homes,  and, 
providing  themselves  with  what  they  considered 
necessary,  have  set  out  on  a  journey  in  quest  of  the 
romantic  adventures  which  in  stories  had  fired  their 
imaginations.  If  their  wishes  could  be  realized 
it  would  not  be  long  before  the  romance  would 
fade  out,  and  they  would  long  for  the  good  homes, 
which  they  had  never  before   fully  appreciated. 

When  the  week  was  over,  Frank  found  that  he 
had  lived   within  his  means,  as  he  had  resolved  to 


80  TBB    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

do ;  but  he  had  not  done  much  more.  He  began 
with  a  dollar  which  he  had  received  from  Mr.  Bowen, 
and  now  he  had  a  dollar  and  a  quarter.  There  was 
a  gain  of  twentj'-five  cents.  There  would  have 
been  a  little  more  if  he  had  not  gone  to  the  theatre 
with  Dick  ;  but  this  he  did  not  regret.  He  felt  that 
he  needed  some  amusement,  and  he  wished  to  show 
his  gratitude  to  his  friend  for  various  kind  services. 
The  time  had  come  to  accept  Mr.  Bowen's  second 
dinner  invitation.  As  Frank  looked  at  his  shabby 
clothes  he  wished  there  were  a  good  pretext  for 
declining,  but  he  reflected  that  this  would  not  be 
polite,  and  that  the  old  gentleman  would  make 
allowances  for  his  wardrobe.  He  brushed  up  his 
clothes  as  well  as  he  could,  and  obtained  a  "  boss 
shine  "  from  Dick.  Then  he  started  for  the  house  on 
Madison  avenue. 

"I'll  lend  you  my  clo'es  if  you  want  'em,"  said 
Dick. 

"  There  are  too  many  spots  of  blacking  on 
them,  Dick.  As  I'm  a  newsboy,  it  wouldn't 
look  appropriate.  I  shall  have  to  make  mine 
answer." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  81 

"  I'll  shine  up  the  blackin'  spots  if  you  want  me 
to." 

"Never  mind,  Dick.  I'll  wait  till  next  time  for 
your   suit." 


82  THE    TELEOIIAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

VICTOR     DUPONT. 

As  Frank  was  walking  on  Madison  avenue,  a 
little  before  reaching  the  house  of  Mr.  Bowen  he 
met  a  boy  of  his  own  age,  whom  he  recognized. 
Victor  Dupont  had  spent  the  previous  summer 
at  the  hotel  in  the  country  village  where  Frank 
had  lived  until  he  came  to  the  city.  Victor  was 
proud  of  his  social  position,  but  time  hung  so 
heavily  upon  his  hands  in  the  country  that  he 
was  glad  to  keep  company  wiih  the  village  boys. 
Frank  and  he  had  frequently  gone  fishing  together, 
and  had  been  associated  in  other  amusements,  so 
that  they  were  for  the  time  quite  intimate.  The 
memories  of  home  and  past  pleasures  thronged 
upon  our  hero  as  he  met  Victor,  and  his  face 
flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  Why,  Victor,"  he  said,  eagerly,  extending 
his  hand,  "how  glad  I  am  to  see  you!" 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  83 

Frank  forgot  that  intimacy  in  the  country  does 
not  necessarily  lead  to  intimacy  in  the  city,  and 
he  was  considerably  surprised  when  Victor,  no 
appearing  to  notice  his  offered  hand,  said  coldly 
"  I  don't   think   I   remember  you." 

"  Don't  remember  me ! "  exclaimed  Frank, 
amazed.  "Why,  I  am  Frank  Kavanagh !  Don't 
you  remember  how  much  we  were  together  last 
summer,  and  what  good  times  we  had  fishing 
and   swimming  together?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  I  do  remember  you  now," 
drawled  Victor,  still  not  offering  his  hand,  or 
expressing  any  pleasure  at  the  meeting.  "  When 
did  }Tou  come  to  the  city?" 

"I  have  been  here  two  or  three  weeks,"  replied 
Frank. 

"Oh,    indeed!     Are   you   going  to  remain?" 

"  Yes,  if  I  can  earn  a  living." 

Victor  scanned  Frank's  clothes  with  a  critical, 
and  evidently  rather  contemptuous,   glance. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  he  asked.  "Are  you 
in  a  store  ?  " 

"  No ;   I  am  selling  papers.  " 


81  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

' '  A  newsboy ! "  said  Victor,  with  a  curve  of 
the   lip. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Frank,  his  pleasure  quite 
chilled  by  Victor's  manner. 

"Are  you  doing  well?"  asked  Victor,  more 
from   cariosity   than   interest. 

"  I   am  making  my   expenses." 

"  How  do  you  happen  to  be  in  this  neighbor- 
hood?   I   suppose  you   sell   papers   down-town." 

"Yes,   but  I   am  invited   to   dinner." 

"Not  here  —  on  the  avenue!"  ejaculated  Victor. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Frank,  enjoying  the  other's 
surprise. 

"Where?" 

Frank  mentioned   the   number. 

"  Why,  that  is  next  to  my  house.  Mr.  Bowen 
lives   there." 

"  Yes." 

"Perhaps  you  know  some  of  the  servants," 
suggested  Victor. 

"I  know- one,"  said  Frank,  smiling,  for  he  read 
Victor's  thoughts ;  "  but  my  invitation  comes  from 
Mr.   Bowen." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  85 

' '  Did  you  ever  dine  there  before  ? "  asked  Vic- 
tor, puzzled. 

"Yes,   last   week." 

"You  must  excuse  my  mentioning  it,  but  I 
should  hardly  think  you  would  like  to  sit  down 
at   a   gentleman's   table   in   that   shabby  suit." 

"I  don't,"  answered  Frank;  "but  I  have  no 
better." 

"  Then  you   ought   to   decline   the   invitation." 

"  I   would,    but  for   appearing   impolite." 

"It  seems  very  strange  that  Mr.  Bowen  should 
invite   a   newsboy  to   dinner." 

"  Perhaps  if  you'd  mention  what  you  think  of 
it,"  said  Frank,  somewhat  nettled,  "  he  would  re- 
call  the   invitation." 

"Oh,  it's  nothing  to  me,"  said  Victor;  "but  I 
thought  I'd  mention  it,  as  I  know  more  of  etiquette 
than  you  do." 

"  You  are  very  considerate,"  said  Frank,  with 
a   slight  tinge   of  sarcasm  in  his  tone. 

By  this  time  he  had  reached  the  house  of  Mr. 
Bowen,    and   the  two  boys   parted. 

Frank    could    not    help    thinking    a  little    about 


86  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

what  Victor  had  said.  His  suit,  as  he  looked 
down  at  it,  seemed  shabbier  than  ever.  Again 
it  occurred  to  him  that  perhaps  Mr.  Bowen  had 
forgotten  the  invitation,  and  this  would  make  it 
very  awkward  for  him.  As  he  waited  for  the 
door  to  open  he  decided  that,  if  it  should  appear 
that  he  was  not  expected,  he  would  give  some 
excuse,  and  go  away. 

Susan  opened  the   door. 

' '  Mr.  Bowen  invited  me  to  come  here  to 
dinner   to-night,"   began   Frank,   rather   nervously. 

"  Yes,  you  are  expected,"  said  Susan,  very  much 
to  his  relief.  "  Wipe  your  feet,  and  come  right 
in." 

Frank   obeyed. 

"  You  are  to  go  upstairs  and  get  ready  for 
dinner,"  said  Susan,  and  she  led  the  way  to  the 
same  chamber  into  which  our  hero  had  been 
ushered   the   week   before.. 

"  There  won't  be  much  getting  ready,"  thought 
Frank.  "  However,  I  can  stay  there  till  I  hear 
the  bell   ring." 

As    he     entered     the    room    he    saw    a   suit    of 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  87 

clothes  and  some  underclothing  lying  on  the 
bed. 

"They  are  for  you,"   said   Susan,  laconically. 

"For   me!"   exclaimed   Frank,    in   surprise. 

"Yes,  put  them  on,  and  when  }tou  come  down 
to   dinner   Mr.    Bowen   will   see   how   they   fit." 

"Is  it  a  present  from  him?"  asked  Frank, 
overwhelmed  with  surprise  and  gratitude,  for  he 
could   see  that   the   clothes  were   very  handsome. 

"Well,  they  aint  from  me,"  said  Susan,  "so 
it's  likely  they  come  from  him.  Don't  be  too 
long,  for  Mr.  Bowen  doesn't  like  to  have  any 
one   late   to  dinner." 

Susan  had  been  in  the  service  of  her  present 
mistress  fifteen  years,  and  was  a  privileged  char- 
acter. She  liked  to  have  her  own  wajr ;  but  had 
sterling  qualities,  being  neat,  faithful,  and  indus- 
trious. 

"  I  wonder  whether  I  am  awake  or  dreaming," 
thought  Frank,  when  he  was  left  alone.  "  I 
shouldn't  like  to  wake  up  and  find  it  was  all  a 
dream." 

He  began  at  once  to  change   his   shabby  clothes 


88  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

for  the  new  ones.  He  found  that  the  articles 
provided  were  a  complete  outfit,  including  shirt, 
collar,  cuffs,  stockings ;  in  fact,  everything  that 
was  needful.  The  coat,  pants,  and  vest  were  a 
neat  gray,  and  proved  to  be  an  excellent  fit.  In 
the  bosom  of  the  shirt  were  neat  studs,  and  the 
cuffs  were  supplied  with  sleeve-buttons  to  corre- 
spond. When  Frank  stood  before  the  glass,  com- 
pletely attired,  he  hardly  knew  himself.  He  was 
as  well  dressed  as  his  aristocratic  acquaintance, 
Victor  Dupont,  and  looked  more  like  a  city  boy 
than   a   boy   bred   in   the   country. 

"I  never  looked  so  well  in  my  life,"  thought 
our  young  hero,  complacently.  "  How  kind  Mr. 
Bowen   is ! " 

Frank  did  not  know  it ;  but  he  was  indebted 
for  this  gift  to  Susan's  suggestion.  When  her 
master  told  her  in  the  morning  that  Frank  was 
coming  to  dinner,  she  said,  "  It's  a  pity  the  boy 
hadn't  some  better  clothes." 

"  I  didn't  notice  his  clothes,"  said  Mr.  Bowen. 
"Are  they  shabby?" 

"  Yes ;    and    they   are    almost   worn    out.     They 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOT.  89 

don't  look  fit  for  one  who  is  going  to  sit  at 
your  table." 

"  Bless  my  soul !  I  never  thought  of  that.  You 
think  he  needs  some  new  clothes." 

"  He  needs  them  badly." 

"I  will  call  at  Baldwin's,. and  order  some  ready- 
made  ;   but  I   don't  know   his   size." 

"  He's  about  two  inches  shorter  than  }tou,  Mr. 
Bo  wen.  Tell  'em  that,  and  they  will  know.  He 
ought   to   have    shirts   and   stockings,    too." 

"So  he  shall,"  said  the  old  man,  quite  inter- 
ested. "  He  shall  have  a  full  rig-out  from  top  to 
toe.     Where  shall  I  go  for  the  shirts  and  things?" 

Susan  had  a  nephew  about  Frank's  age,  and  she 
was  prepared  to  give  the  necessary  information. 
The  old  gentleman,  who  had  no  business  to  attend 
to,  was  delighted  to  have  something  to  fill  up 
his  time.  He  went  out  directly  after  breakfast, 
or  as  soon  as  he  had  read  the  morning  paper, 
and  made  choice  of  the  articles  already  described, 
giving  strict  injunctions  that  they  should  be  sent 
home   immediately. 

This  was   the  way  Frank   got  his   new  outfit. 


90  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

When  our  hero  came  downstairs  Mr.  Bowen  was 
waiting  eagerly  to  see  the  transformation.  The 
result  delighted  him. 

"Why,  I  shouldn't  have  known  you!"  he  ex- 
claimed, lifting  both  hands.  "I  had  no  idea  new 
clothes  would  change  you  so   much." 

"I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you,  sir,"  said 
Frank,   gratefully. 

"  I  never  should  have  thought  of  it  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  Susan." 

"  Then  I  thank  you,  Susan,"  said  Frank,  offer- 
ing his  hand  to  the  girl,  as  she   entered  the  room. 

Susan  was  pleased.  She  liked  to  be  appreci- 
ated ;  and  she  noted  with  satisfaction  the  great 
improvement  in   Frank's   appearance. 

"You  are  quite  welcome,"  she  said;  "but  it 
was  master's   money  that  paid   for  the   clothes." 

"It  was  your  kindness  that  made  him  think 
of  it,"  said  Frank. 

From  that  moment  Susan  became  Frank's  fast 
friend.  We  generally  like  those  whom  we  have 
benefited,  if  our  services  are  suitably  acknowl- 
edged. 


THB    TELEGRAPH    SOT.  91 


CHAPTER  X. 

A   NEW    PROSPECT. 

"Well,  Frank,  and  how  is  your  business?" 
asked  the  old  gentleman,  when  they  were  sitting 
at  the   dinner-table. 

"  Pretty  good,    sir." 

"Are  you   making  jrour   expenses?" 

"Yes,  sir;  just   about." 

"That  is  well.  Mind  jrou  never  run  into  debt. 
That   is   a  bad   plan." 

"  I  shan't  have  to  now,  sir.  If  I  had  had  to 
buy  clothes  for  myself,   I  might  have  had  to." 

"  Do  you  find  the  shirts  and  stockings  fit 
you?" 

"Yes,    sir;   they   are  just   right." 

"  I  bought  half  a  dozen  of  each.  Susan  will  give 
you  the  bundle  when  you  are  ready  to  go.  If 
they  had  not  been  right,  they  could  have  been 
exchanged." 


92  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Thank  you,  sir.  I  shall  feel  rich  TUth  so 
many   clothes." 

"Where   do  3*011   sleep,   Frank?" 

"  At  the  Newsboy's  Lodging-House." 

"  Is  there  any  place  there  where  you  can  keep 
your   clothes?" 

"  Yes,   sir.     Each  boy  has  a  locker  to   himself." 

"That  is  a  good  plan.  It  would  be  better  if 
you   had   a   room   to  yourself." 

"I  can't  afford  it  yet,  sir.  The  lodging-house 
costs  me  only  forty-two  cents  a  week  for  a  bed, 
and    I   could   not  get   a  room   for   that." 

"Bless  my  soul!  That  is  very  cheap.  Really, 
I  think  I  could  save  money  by  giving  up  my 
house,    and   going  there   to   sleep." 

"I  don't  think  you  would  like  it,  sir,"  said 
Frank,   smiling. 

"  Probabty  not.  Now,  Frank,  I  am  going  to 
mention  a  plan  I  have  for  you.  You  don't  want 
to  be  a  newsboy  all  your  life." 

"No,  sir;  I  think  I  should  get  tired  of  it  by 
the  time  I  was  fifty." 

"  My  friend   Thompson,  the   gentleman  who  was 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  93 

walking  with  me  when  we  first  saw  you,  is  an 
officer  of  the  American  District  Telegraph  Com- 
pany. They  employ  a  large  number  of  boj'S  at 
their  various  offices  to  run  errands ;  and,  in  fact, 
to  do  anything  that  is  required  of  them.  Probably 
you  have  seen  some  of  the  boys  going  about  the 
city." 

"Yes,  sir;  they  have  a  blue  uniform." 

"Precisely.  How  would  you  like  to  get  a 
situation  of  that  kind?" 

"  Very  much,  sir,"  said  Frank,  promptly. 

"  Would  you  like  it  better  than  being  a  news- 
boy?" 

"Yes,   sir." 

"My  friend  Thompson,  to  whom  I  spoke  on 
the  subject,  says  he  will  take  you.  on  in  a  few 
weeks,  provided  you  will  qualify  yourself  for  the 
post." 

"  I  will  do  that,  sir,  if  you  will  tell  me  how." 

"  You  must  be  well  acquainted  with  the  city 
in  all  its  parts,  know  the  locations  of  different 
hotels,  prominent  buildings,  have  a  fair  educa- 
tion,   and   be   willing    to    make   yourself   generally 


94  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

useful.     You   will   have    to   satisfy   the   superinten- 
dent that  you  are  fitted  for  the  position." 

"  I  think  my  education  will  be  sufficient,"  said 
Frank,  "  for  I  always  went  to  school  till  just  be- 
fore I  came  to  the  city.  I  know  something 
about  the  lower  part  of  the  city,  but  I  will  go 
about  every  day  during  the  hours  when  I  am 
not  selling  papers  till  I  am  familiar  with  all 
parts  of  it." 

"  Do  so,  and  when  there  is  a  vacancy  I  will 
let  you  know." 

"How  much  pay  shall  I  get,  sir,  if  they  ac- 
cept me?" 

"  About  three  dollars  a  week  at  first,  and  more 
when  you  get  familiar  with  your  duties.  No 
doubt  money  will  also  be  given  you  by  some 
who  employ  you,  though  you  will  not  be  allowed 
to  ask  for  any  fees.  Very  likely  you  will  get 
nearly  as  much  in  this  way  as  from  your  salary." 

Frank's  face  expressed  satisfaction. 

"That  will  be  bully,"  he  said. 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  po- 
litely.    "What  did  you   remark?" 


TME     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  95 

"*  That  will  be  excellent,"  said  Frank,  blushing. 

"I  thought  you  spoke  of  a  bully." 

"It  was  a  word  I  learned  from  Dick  Raf- 
fert}7,"  said  Frank,  feeling  rather  embarrassed. 

"And  who  is  Dick  Rafferty?" 

"  One  of  my  friends  at  the  Lodging-House." 

"Unless  his  education  is  better  than  yours  I 
would  not  advise  yon  to  learn  any  of  his  words." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

"  You  must  excuse  my  offering  you  advice.  It 
is  the  privilege  of  the  old  to  advise  the  young." 

"  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  follow  your  advice, 
Mr.  Bowen,"  said  Frank. 

"  Good  boy,  good  boy,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man, approvingly.  "  I  wish  all  boys  were  like 
you.  Some  think  they  know  more  than  their 
grandfathers.  There's  one  of  that  kind  who  lives 
next  door." 

"His  name  is  Victor  Dupont,  isn't  it,  sir?" 

Mr.  Bowen  looked  surprised.  "  How  is  it  that 
you  know  his  name?"  he  asked. 

"We  were  together  a  good  deal  last  summer. 
His  family  boarded     at  the  hotel    in  the  country 


96  THS     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

village    where    I   used   to  live.      He    and    I   went 
bathing  and  fishing  together." 

"Indeed!  Have  you  seen  him  since  you  came 
to  the  city?" 

"  I  met  him  as  I  was  on  my  way  here  this 
afternoon." 

"Did  he  speak  to  you?" 

"Yes,  sir;  though  at  first  he  pretended  he 
didn't  remember  me." 

"Just  like  him.  He  is  a  very  proud  and  con- 
ceited boy.  Did  you  tell  him  you  were  coming 
to  dine   with   me?" 

"Yes,  sir.  He  seemed  very  much  surprised,  as 
I  had  just  told  him  I  was  a  newsboy.  He  said 
he  was  surprised  that  you  should  invite  a  news- 
boy  to   dine   with  3rou." 

"I  would  much  rather  have  you  dine  with  me 
than  him.     What  more  did  he   say  ?  " 

"  He  said  he  shouldn't  think  I  would  like  to 
go  out  to  dinner  with  such  a  shabby  suit." 

"We  have  removed  that  objection,"  said  Mr. 
Bowen,  smiling. 

"Yes,    sir,"   said   Frank;    "I  think   Victor   will 


THE    TELEGRAPH    SOT.  97 

treat    me   more    respectfully   now   when    he   meets 
me." 

' '  The  respect  of  such  a  boy  is  of  very  little 
importance.     He  judges  only  by  the  outside." 

At  an  early  hour  Frank  took  his  leave,  prom 
ising  to  call  again  before  long. 

"  Where  can  I  send  to  you  if  you  are  wanted 
for  a  telegraph  boy?"  asked  Mr.  Bowen. 

"  A  letter  to  me  addressed  to  the  care  of  Mr. 
O'Connor  at  the  lodging-house  will  reach  me," 
said  Frank. 

"Write  it  down  for  me,"  said  the  old  gentle- 
man. "You  will  find  writing  materials  on  yonder 
desk." 

When  Frank  made  his  appearance  at  the  lodg- 
ing-house in  his  new  suit,  with  two  bundles,  one 
containing  his  old  clothes,  and  the  other  his 
extra  supply  of  underclothing,  his  arrival  made 
quite   a   sensation. 

"Have  you  come  into  a  fortun'?"  asked  one 
boy. 

"  Did  you  draw  a  prize  in  the  Havana  lot- 
tery?" asked  another. 


98  TBE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  Have  you  been  playing  policy  ? "  asked  a 
third. 

"You're  all  wrong,"  said  Dick  Raffertj^. 
"  Frank's  been  adopted  by  a  rich  '  man  upon 
Madison  avenue.     Aint  that  so,  Frank?" 

"  Something  like  it,"  said  Frank.  "  There's  a 
gentleman  up  there  who  has  been  very  kind  to 
me." 

"If  he  wants  to  adopt  another  chap,  spake  a 
good  word  for  me,"  said  Patsy  Reagan. 

"  Whisht,  Pats}',  he  don't  want  no  Irish  .  bog- 
trotter,"  said  Phil  Donovan. 

"  You're  Irish  yourself,  Phil,  now,  and  you 
can't   deny   it." 

"What  if  I  am?  I  aint  no  bog-trotter  —  I'm 
the  son  of  an  Irish  count.  You  can  see  by  my 
looks  that   I   belong  to   the   gintry." 

"  Then  the  gintry  must  have  red  hair  and 
freckles,  Phil.     There   aint   no   chance  for  you." 

"Tell  us  all  about  it,  Frank,"  said  Dick. 
"  Shure  I'm  your  best  friend,  and  you  might  men- 
tion my  name  to  the  ould  gintleman  if  he's  got 
any  more  good  clothes  to  give   away." 


THE    TELisxiRAPH    BOY.  99 

"I  will  with  pleasure,  Dick,  if  I  think  it  will 
do  any   good." 

uYou  won't  put  on  no  airs  because  you're  better 
dressed   than  the   likes   of  us  ? " 

"  I  shall  wear  my  old  clothes  to-morrow,  Dick. 
I  can't  afford  to  wear  my  best  clothes  every 
day." 

"  I  can,"  said  Dick,  dryly,  which  was  quite 
true,  as  his  best  clothes  were  the  only  ones  he 
hud. 

Bright  and  early  the  next  morning  Frank  was 
about  his  work,  without  betraying  in  any  way  the 
proud  consciousness  of  being  the  owner  of  two 
suits.  He  followed  Mr.  Bowen's  advice,  and  spent 
his  leisure  hours  in  exploring  the  city  in  its  various 
parts,  so  that  in  the  course  of  a  month  he  knew 
more  about  it  than  boys  who  had  lived  in  it  all 
their  lives.  He  told  Dick  his  object  in  taking 
these  long  walks,  and  urged  him  to  join  him 
in  the  hope  of  winning  a  similar  position ;  but 
Dick  decided  that  it  was  too  hard  work.  He  pre- 
ferred to  spend  his  leisure  time  in  playing  marbles 
or  pitching  pennies. 


100  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE   TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


Six  weeks  later  Frank  Kavanagh,  through  the 
influence  of  his  patron,  found  himself  in  the  uni- 
form of  a  District  Telegraph  Messenger.  The 
blue  suit,  and  badge  upon  the  cap,  are  familiar 
to  every  city  resident.  The  uniform  is  provided 
by  the  company,  but  must  be  paid  for  by  weekly 
instalments,  which  are  deducted  from  the  wages 
of  the  wearers.  This  would  have  seriously  em- 
barrassed Frank  but  for  an  opportune  gift  of  ten 
dollars  from  Mr.  Bowen,  which  nearly  paid  the 
expense   of  his   suit. 

Frank  was  emplo}red  in  one  of  the  up-town 
offices  of  the  company.  For  the  information  of 
such  of  my  young  readers  as  live  in  the  country  it 
may  be  explained  that  large  numbers  of  houses  and 
offices  in  the  city  are  connected  with  the  offices 
of    the    District    Telegraph    by  machines,   through 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  101 

which,  at  any  time  in  the  day  or  night,  a  mes- 
senger may  be  summoned  for  any  purpose.  It 
is  only  necessary  to  raise  a  knob  in  the  box 
provided,  and  a  bell  is  rung  in  the  office^  of  the 
company.  Of  course  there  is  more  or  less  tran- 
sient business  besides  that  of  the  regular  sub- 
scribers. 

Boys,  on  arriving  at  the  office,  seat  themselves, 
and  are  called  upon  in  order.  A  boy  just  re- 
turned from  an  errand  hangs  up  his  hat,  and 
takes  his  place  at  the  foot  of  the  line.  He  will 
not  be  called  upon  again  till  all  who  are  ahead 
of  him  have  been  despatched  in  one  direction  or 
another. 

Frank  was  curious  to  know  what  would  be  his 
first  duty,  and  waited  eagerly  for  his  turn  to 
come. 

At  length  it   came 

"  Go  to  No.  —  Madison  avenue,"  said  the 
superintendent. 

A  few  minutes  later  Frank  was  ascending  the 
steps   of  a  handsome   brown-stone   residence. 

"Oh,  you're  the   telegraph  boy,"   said   a   colored 


102  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

servant.  "  You're  to  go  upstairs  into  missus's 
sitting-room." 

Upon  entering,  Frank  found  himself  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  rather  stout  lady,  who  was  reclining  on 
a  sofa. 

He  bowed  politely,  and  waited  for  his  instruc- 
tions. 

"I  hope  you  are  a  trustworthy  boy,"  said  the 
stout   lady. 

"  I  hope  so',   ma'am." 

"  Come   here,   Fido,"   said  the  lady. 

A  little  mass  of  hair,  with  two  red  eyes  peep- 
ing out,  rose  from  the  carpet  and  waddled  towards 
the  lady,  for  Fido  was  about  as  stout  as  his 
mistress. 

"Do  you  like  dogs?"  asked  Mrs.  Leroy,  for 
this  was   the  lady's   name. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  Frank,  wondering  what 
that  had   to   do   with   his   errand. 

"I  sent  for  you  to  take  my  sweet  darling  out 
for  an  airing.  His  health  requires  that  he  should 
go  out  every  day.  I  generally  take  him  nryself, 
but  this  morning  I  have   a  severe    headache,    and 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  103 

do  not  feel  equal  to  the  task.  My  dear  little 
pet,    will  you   go  out   with  this   nice  boy?" 

Fido   looked   gravely   at  Frank   and   sneezed. 

"I  hope  the  darling  hasn't  got  cold,"  said  Mrs 
Leroy,  with  solicitude.  "My  lad,  what  is  youi 
name  ?  " 

"Frank  Kavanagh,  ma'am." 

"Will  you  take  great  care  of  my  little  pet, 
Frank?" 

"  I  will  try  to,  madam.  Where  do  you  want  him 
to  go?" 

"To  Madison  Park.  He  always  likes  the  park, 
because  it  is  so  gay.  When  you  get  there  you  may 
sit  down  on  one  of  the  benches  and  give  him  time  to 
rest." 

"Yes,  ma'am.  How  long  would  you  like  me 
to   stay  out   with  him  ? " 

"About  an  hour  and  a  half.  Have  you  a 
watch  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  can  tell  the  time  by  the  clock  in 
front  of  the  Fifth-avenue  Hotel." 

"  To  be  sure.  I  was  going  to  lend  you  my 
watch." 


104  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Shall   I   start   now?" 

"  Yes.  Here  is  the  string.  Don't  make  Fido 
go  too  fast.  He  is  stout,  and  cannot  walk  fast. 
You   will  be   sure   to   take   great   care   of  him?" 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  And  you  keep  watch  that  no  bad  man  car- 
ries off  my  Fido.  I  used  to  send  him  out  by  one 
of  the  girls,  till  I  found  that  she  ill-treated  the 
poor  thing.  Of  course  I  couldn't  stand  that,  so 
I  sent  her  packing,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  I  will  try  to  follow  your  directions,"  said  Frank, 
who  wanted  to  laugh  at  the  lady's  ridiculous  de- 
votion  to   her  ugly   little   favorite. 

"  That  is  right.  You  look  like  a  good  boy.  I 
will  give  you  something  for  yourself  when  you 
come   back." 

"Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Frank,  who  was 
better  pleased  with  this  remark  than  any  the  lady 
had  previously  made. 

Mrs.  Leroy  kissed  Fido  tenderly,  and  consigned 
him   to   the   care   of  our  hero. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Frank  to  himself,  "  that  I 
am   the   dog's   nurse.     It   is   rather   a   queer  office ; 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  105 

but  as  long  as  I  am  well  paid  for  it  I  don't 
mind." 

When  Fido  found  himself  on  the  sidewalk  he 
seemed  disinclined  to  move ;  but  after  a  while,  by 
dint  of  coaxing,  he  condescended  to  waddle  along 
at  Frank's  heels. 

After  a  while  they  reached  Madison  Park,  and 
Frank,  according  to  his  instructions,  took  a  seat, 
allowing   Fido   to   curl  up  at  his   side. 

"This  isn't  very  hard  work,"  thought  Frank. 
"  I  wish  I  had  a  book  or  paper  to  read,  to  while 
away  the  time." 

While  he  was  sitting  there  Victor  Dupont  came 
sauntering   along. 

"  Halloa !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  surprise,  as  he  rec- 
ognized  Frank,    "  is   that  you?  " 

"I  believe sit  is,"  answered  Frank,  with  a  smile. 

' '  Are  you   a   telegraph   boy  ?  " 

"  Yes."      • 

"  I   thought  you   were   a   newsboy  ? " 

"  So  I  was ;  but  I  have  changed  my  business." 

"What   are  you   doing   here?" 

"Taking  care  of  a  dog,"  said  Frank,  laughing. 


106  TIIE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Is   that   the   dog?" 

"Yes." 

"  It's  a  beastly  little  brute.     "What's  its  name?" 

"Fido." 

"Who  does   it   belong   to?" 

Frank   answered. 

"I  know,"  said  Victor;  "it's  a  fat  lady  living 
on  the  avenue.  I  have  seen  her  out  often  with 
little  pug.  How  do  you  feel,  Fido?"  and  Victor 
began   to   pull  the   hair  of  the   lady's   favorite. 

"  Don't   do   that,  Victor,"  remonstrated  Frank. 

"Why  not?" 

"Mrs.    Leroy    wouldn't  like   it." 

"  Mrs.    Leroy    isn't   here." 

"  I  am,"  said  Frank,  emphatically,  "  and  that 
is   the   same  thing." 

Victor,  by  wa}r  of  reply,  pinched  Fido's  ear,  and 
the   little   animal   squeaked   his   disapproval. 

"  Look  here,  Victor,"  said  Frank,  decidedly,  "you 
must   stop   that." 

"Must  I?"  sneered  Victor,  contemptuously 
'Suppose   I   don't?" 

"  Then  J  shall  punch  you,"  said  Frank,  quietly. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  107 

"  You  are  impertinent,"  said  Victor,  haughtily. 
"  You  needn't  put  on  such  airs  because  you  are 
nurse   to  a   puppy." 

"  That  is  better  than  being  a  puppy  myself," 
retorted   Frank. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insult  me?"  demanded  Victor, 
quickly. 

"  No,  unless  you  choose  to  think  the  remark 
fits  you." 

"I  have  a  great  mind  to  give  you  a  thrashing," 
said  Victor,  furiously. 

"  Of  course  I  should  sit  still  and  let  you  do  it,'' 
said  Frank,  calmly.  "Fido  is  under  my  care, 
and  I  can't  have  him  teased.  That  is  right,  isn't 
it?" 

"  I  did  wrong  to  notice  you,"  said  Victor.  "  You 
are  only   a  dog's  nurse." 

Frank   laughed. 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said.  "It  is  new  busi- 
ness for  me,  and  though  it  is  easy  enough  I 
can't  say  I  like  it.  However,  I  am  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Telegraph  Company,  and  must  do 
whatever  is  required." 


108  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

Victor  walked  away,  rather  annoyed  because  he 
^ould  not  tease  Frank. 

"  The  boy  has  no  pride,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  or 
he  wouldn't  live  out  to  take  care  of  dogs.  But, 
•hen,  it  is  suitable  enough  for  him." 

' '  Is  that  dawg  yours  ? "  asked  a  rough-looking 
man,  taking  his  seat  on  the  bench  near  Frank. 

"No,  sir." 

"How  old  is  it?" 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Looks  like  a  dawg  I  used  to  own.  Let  me  take 
him." 

"I  would  rather  not,"  said  Frank,  coldly.  "It 
belongs  to  a  lady  who  is  very  particular." 

"Oh,  you  won't,  won't  you?"  said  the  man, 
roughly.  "  Danged  if  I  don't  think  it  is  my  dawg, 
after  all ; "  and  the  man  seized  Fido,  and  waa 
about  to  carry  him  away. 

But  Frank  seized  him  by  the  arm,  and  called 
for  help. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  a  park  policeman 
who,  unobserved  by  either,  had  come  up  behind. 

"  This  man  is  trying  to  steal  my  dog,"  said  Frank 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOT.  109 

"The  dog  is  mine,"  said  the  thief,  boldly. 

"Drop  him!"  said  the  officer,  authoritatively. 
"  I  have  seen  that  dog  before.  He  belongs  to 
neither  of  you." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Frank.  "It  belongs  to  Mrs. 
Leroy,  of  Madison  avenue,  and  I  am  employed  to 
take  it  out  for  an  airing." 

"It's  a  lie!"  said  the  man,  sullenly. 

"  If  }'Ou  are  seen  again  in  this  neighborhood," 
said  the  policeman,  "I  shall  arrest  you.  Now  clear 
out!" 

The  would-be  thief  slunk  away,  and  Frank  thanked 
the  officer. 

"That  man  is  a  dog-stealer,"  said  the  policeman. 
"  His  business  is  to  steal  dogs,  and  wait  till  a  reward 
is  offered.     Look  out  for  hina !  " 


110  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAFIER  XII. 

A   WAYWARD    SON. 

When  Frank  carried  Fido  back  to  his  mistress, 
he  thought  it  his  duty  to  tell  Mrs.  Leroy  of  the 
attempt  to   abduct   the   favorite. 

Mrs.  Leroy  turned  pale. 

"Did  the  man  actually  take  my  little  pet?"  she 
asked. 

uYes,  ma'am.     He  said  it  was  his  dog." 

"The  horrid  brute!  How  could  I  have  lived 
without  my  darling?"  and  the  lad}r  caressed  her 
favorite  tenderly.     "How  did  you  prevent  him?" 

"I  seized  him  by  the  arm,  and  held  him  till  a 
policeman  came  up." 

"You  are  a  brave  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Leroy, 
admiringly.  "  But  for  you,  Fido  would  have  been 
stolen." 

"The  policeman  said  the  man  was  a  professional 
dog-stealer.  He  steals  dogs  for  the  reward  which 
is  offered." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  Ill 

"I  was  sure  I  could  trust  you  with  my  pet," 
said  Mrs.  Leroy.  "You  deserve  a  reward  your- 
self." 

"  I  was  only  doing  my  duty,  ma'am,"  said  Frank, 
modestly. 

"  It  isn't  everybody  that  does  that." 

Mrs.  Leroy  rose,  and,  going  to  her  bureau,  drew 
an  ivory  portemonnaie  from  a  small  upper  drawer ; 
from  this  she  extracted  a  two-dollar  bill,  and  gave 
it  to  Frank. 

"  This  is  too  much,"  said  Frank,  surprised  at  the 
size  of  the  gift. 

"Too  much  for  rescuing  my  little  pet?  No,  no, 
I  am  the  best  judge  of  that.  I  wouldn't  have 
lost  him  for  fifty  times  two  dollars." 

"You  are  very  liberal,  and  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you,"  said  Frank. 

"  If  I  send  again  for  a  boy  to  take  out  Fido, 
I  want  you  to  come." 

"  I  will  if  I  can,  ma'am." 

For  several  days,  though  Frank  was  employed  on 
errands  daily,  there  was  nothing  of  an  unusual  char- 
acter.   About  eleven  o'clock  one  evening  (for  Frank 


112  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

had  to  take  his  turn  at  night  work)  he  was  sent  to 
a  house  on  West  Thirty-eighth  street.  On  arriving, 
he  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  a  lady  of  middle 
age,  whose  anxious  face  betrayed  the  anxiety  that  she 
felt. 

"  I  have  a  son  rather  larger  and  older  than  j7ou," 
she  said,  "  who,  to  my  great  sorrow,  has  been  led 
away  by  evil  companions,  who  have  induced  him  to 
drink  and  play  cards  for  money.  I  will  not  admit 
them  into  my  house,  but  I  cannot  keep  him  from 
seeking  them  out.  He  is  no  doubt  with  them 
to-night." 

Frank  listened  with  respectful  sympathy,  and 
waited  to  hear  what  he  was  desired  to  do  in  the 
matter. 

"The  boy's  father  is  dead,"  continued  Mrs.  Vivian, 
with  emotion,  "  and  I  cannot  fill  his  place.  Fred  is 
unwilling  to  obey  his  mother.  His  companions  have 
persuaded  him  that  it  is  unmanly." 

"  I  would  gladly  obey  my  mother  if  I  could  have 
her  back,"  said  Frank. 

"Is  your  mother  dead,  then?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Vivian,  with  quick  sympathy. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  113 

•'  I  have  neither  father  nor  mother,"  Frank 
answered  gravely. 

"  Poor  boy !  And  yet  you  do  not  fall  into  temp- 
ation." 

"I  have  no  time  for  that,  ma'am;  I  have  to 
earn  my  living." 

"  If  I  could  get  Fred  to  take  a  position  it  might 
be  a  benefit  to  him,"  said  Mrs.  Vivian,  thought- 
fully. "But  the  question  now  is,  how  I  may  be 
able  to  find  him." 

' '  When  did  you   see  him  last  ? "  asked   Frank. 

"About  three  o'clock  this  afternoon  I  gave  him 
sevent}T-five  dollars,  and  sent  him  to  pay  a  bill. 
I  was  perhaps  imprudent  to  trust  him  with  such 
a  sum  of  money ;  but  for  a  few  days  past  he  has 
been  more  stead}7  than  usual,  and  I  thought  it 
would  show  my  confidence  in  him  if  I  employed 
him  in  such  a  matter." 

"  I    should   think  it  would,   ma'am." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  Fred  fell  in  with  some  of 
his  evil  companions,  and  let  them  know  that  he 
was  well  provided  with  money.  That  would  be 
enough  to  excite  their  cupidity." 


114  TBE    TELBGRAPB    BOT. 

"Who  are  the  companions  you  speak  of?"  asked 
Frank. 

"  Boys,  or  rather  young  men,  for  they  are  all 
older  than  Fred,  of  lower  social  rank  than  him- 
self. I  don't  attach  any  special  importance  to 
that,  nor  do  I  object  to  them  on  that  ground ;  but 
they  are,  I  have  reason  to  think,  ill-bred  and 
disreputable.  They  know  Fred  to  be  richer  than 
themselves,  and  induce  him  to  drink  and  play,  in 
the  hope  of  getting  some  of  his  money.  I  have 
sent  for  you  to  go  in  search  of  my  son.  If  you 
find  him  you  must  do  your  best  to  bring  him 
home." 

"  I  will,"  said  Frank.  "  Can  you  give  me  any 
idea  where  he  may  be  found  ?  " 

Mrs.  Vivian  wrote  on  a  card  two  places,  —  one 
a  billiard  saloon,  which  she  had  reason  to  suspect 
that  her  son  frequented. 

"Now,"  said  Frank,  "  will  you  be  kind  enough 
to  describe  your  son  to  me,  so  that  I  may  know 
him  when  I  see  him?" 

"  I  will  show  you  his  photograph,"  said  Mrs. 
Vivian. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  115 

She  opened  an  album,  and  showed  the  picture 
of  a  boy  of  seventeen,  with  a  pleasant  face,  fail 
complexion,  and  hair  somewhat  curly.  His  fore- 
head was  high,  and  he  looked  gentlemanly  and 
refined. 

"Is  he  not  good-looking?"  said  the   mother. 

"  He  looks  like  a  gentleman,"  said  Frank. 

"  He  would  be  one  if  he  could  throw  off  his 
evil  associates.  Do  you  think  you  will  know  him 
from  the  picture?" 

"Yes,   I   think  so.     Is  he   tall?" 

"Two  or  three  inches  taller  than  you  are.  You 
had  better  take  the  picture  with  you.  I  have  an 
extra  one,  which  you  can  put  in  your  pocket  to 
help  you  identify  him.  By  the  way,  it  will  be 
as  well  that  you  should  be  supplied  with  money  in 
case  it  is  necessary  to  bring  him  home  in  a  cab." 

Frank  understood  what  the  mother  found  it  diffi- 
cult to  explain.  She  feared  that  her  boy  might 
be  the  worse  for  drink. 

She  handed  our  hero  a  five-dollar  bill. 

"  I  will  use  it  prudently,  madam,"  said  he, 
"  and  account  to  you  for  all  I  do  not  nse." 


116  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"I  trust  you  wholly,"  said  the  lady.  "Now 
go  as  quickly  as  possible." 

Frank  looked  at  the  two  addresses  he  had  on 
the  card.  The  billiard-saloon  was  on  the  east 
side   of  the   city,    in   an   unfashionable  locality. 

"  I'll  go   there   first,"   he   decided. 

Crossing  to  Third  avenue  he  hailed  a  car,  and 
rode  down-town.  His  knowledge  of  the  city, 
gained  from  the  walks  he  took  when  a  newsboy, 
made  it  easy  for  him  to  find  the  place  of  which 
he  was  in  search.  Though  it  was  nearly  midnight, 
the  saloon  was  lighted  up,  and  two  tables  were 
in  use.  On  the  left-hand  side,  as  he  entered, 
was'  a  bar,  behind  which  stood  a  man  in  his 
shirt-sleeves,  who  answered  the  frequent  calls  for 
drinks.  He  looked  rather  suspiciously  at  Frank's 
uniform  when  he  entered. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked.  "Have  you 
any  message  for  me?" 

"No,"  said  Frank,  carelessly.  "Let  me  have  a 
glass   of  lemonade." 

The  bar-keeper's  face  cleared  instantly,  and  he 
set  about  preparing  the  beverage  required. 


THE     TELEGRAPH  BOY.  117 

•'Won't  you   have   something  in   it?"    he  asked. 

"No,   sir,"    said  Frank. 

"  You  boys  are  kept  out  pretty  late,"  said  the 
bar-keeper,  socially. 

"  Not  every  night,"  said  Frank.     "We  take  turns." 

Frank  paid  ten  cents  for  his  lemonade,  and, 
passing  into  the  billiard-saloon,  sat  down  and 
watched  a  game.  He  looked  around  him,  but 
could  not  see  anything  of  Fred.  In  fact,  all  the 
players  were  men. 

Sitting  next  to  him  was  a  young  fellow,  who 
was  watching  the  game. 

"  Suppose  we  try   a   game,"   he   said   to   Frank. 

' '  Not  to-night.  I  came  in  here  to  look  for  a 
friend,  but   I  guess  he   isn't  here." 

"  I've  been  here  two  hoars.  What  does  your 
friend  look  like?" 

"  That's  his  picture,"  said  Frank,  displaying  the 
photograph. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  his  new  acquaintance,  "he  is 
here   now.     "His   name   is   Fred,   isn't  it?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Frank,  eagerly;  "  I  don't  see 
him.     Where   is  he?" 


118  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY 

"  He's  plaj'ing  cards  upstairs,  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve he  can  tell  one  card  from  the  other." 

"  Been  drinking,  I  suppose,"  said  Frank,  be- 
traying no  surprise. 

"  I  should  say  so.  Do  you  know  the  fellows 
he's   with?" 

"I  am  not  sure  about  that.  How  long  has 
Fred  been   upstairs  ?  " 

"  About  an  hour.  He  was  playing  billiards  till 
he  couldn't  stand  straight,  and  then  they  went 
upstairs." 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  him  that  there  is  a 
friend  downstairs  who  wishes  to  see  him,  that 
is,    if  you  know   the   wajr?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  live  here.  Won't  you  come  up  with 
me?" 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better,"  said  Frank,  and  fol- 
lowed his  companion  through  a  door  in  the  rear, 
and  up  a  dark  and  narrow  staircase  to  the  street 
floor. 

"It'll  be  a  hard  job  to  get  him  away," 
thought  Frank;  "but,  for  his  mother's  sake,  1 
will  do  my  best." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  119 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


A   TIMELY   RESCUE. 


As  Frank  entered  the  room  he  hastily  took  in 
the  scene  before  him.  Round  a  table  sat  three 
young  men,  of  not  far  from  twenty,  the  fourth 
side  being  occupied  by  Fred  Vivian.  They  were 
playing  cards,  and  sipping  drinks  as  they  played. 
Fred  Vivian's  handsome  face  was  flushed,  and  he 
was  nervously  excited.  His  hands  trembled  as  he 
lifted  the  glass,  and  his  wandering,  uncertain 
glances  showed  that  he  was  not  himself. 

"  It's  your  play,  Fred,"  said  his  partner. 

Fred  picked  up  a  card  without  looking  at  it, 
and  threw  it  down  on  the  table. 

"That  settles  it,"  said  another.  "Fred,  old 
boy,  you've  lost  the  game.  You're  another  five 
dollars  out." 

Fred  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  a  bill,  and  it 
was  quickly  taken  from   his   hand  before  he  could 


120  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

well  see  of  what  value  it  was.  Frank,  however, 
quickly  as  it  was  put  away,  saw  that  it  was  a 
ten.  It  was  clear  that  Fred  was  being  cheated 
in  the  most  barefaced  manner. 

Frank's  entrance  was  evidently  unwelcome  to  most 
of  the  company. 

"  What  are  you  bringing  in  that  boy  for, 
John?"  demanded  a  low-browed  fellow,  with  a  face 
like  a  bull-dog. 

"  He  is  a  friend  of  Fred,"  answered  John. 

"  He's  a  telegraph  boj'.  He  comes  here  a  spy. 
Fred  don't  know  him.     Clear  out,  boy !  " 

Frank  took  no  notice  of  this  hostile  remark, 
but  walked  up  to  Fred  Vivian. 

"Fred,"  said  he,  thinking  it  best  to  speak  as 
if  he  knew  him,  "it  is  getting  late,  and  }^our 
mother  is  anxious  about  you.  Won't  you  come 
home  with  me?" 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Fred,  with  drunken 
gravity.     "  You  aint  my  mother." 

"  I  come  from  your  mother.  Don't  you  know 
me?     I  am  Frank  Kavanagh." 

"How  do,   Frank?    Glad  to  see  you,   ol'  feller. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    MOT.  121 

Take  a  drink.  Here,  you  boy,  bring  a  drink  for 
my  frien',  Frank  Kavanagh." 

The  three  others  looked  on  disconcerted.  They 
were  not  ready  to  part  with  Fred  yet,  having 
secured  only  a  part  of  his  money. 

"  You  don't  know  him,  Fred,"  said  the  one 
who  had  appropriated  the  ten-dollar  bill.  ' '  He's 
only  a  telegraph  boy." 

"  I  tell  you  he's  my  frien',  Frank  Kav'nagh," 
persisted  Fred,  with  an  obstinacy  not  unusual  in 
one  in  his  condition. 

"Well,  if  he  is,  let  him  sit  down,  and  have  a 
glass  of  something  hot." 

"No,  I  thank  you,"  said  Frank,  coldly.  "Fred 
and  I  are  going  home." 

"  No,  3'ou're  not,"  exclaimed  the  other,  bring- 
ing his  fist  heavily  down  upon  the  table.  "We 
won't  allow  our  friend  Fred  to  be  kidnapped  by 
a  boy  of  your  size,  —  not  much  we  won't,  will 
we,  boys  ? " 

"No!    no!"  chimed  in  the  other  two. 

Fred  Vivian  looked  at  them  undecided. 


122  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  I  guess  I'd  Letter  go,"  he  stammered.  "There's 
something  the  matter  with  my  head." 

"You  need  another  drink  to  brace  you  up. 
Here,  John,  bring  up  another  punch  for  Fred." 

Frank  saw  that  unless  he  got  Fred  away  be- 
fore drinking  any  more,  he  would  not  be  in  a 
condition  to  go  at  all.  It  was  a  critical  position, 
but  he  saw  that  he  must  be  bold  and  resolute. 

u  You  needn't  bring  Fred  anything  more,"  he 
said.     "  He  has  had  enough  already." 

"  I  have  had  enough  already,"  muttered  Fred, 
mechanically. 

"Boys,  are  we  going  to  stand  this?"  said  the 
low-browed  young  man.  "  Are  we  going  to  let 
this  telegraph  boy  interfere  with  -a  social  party  of 
young  gentlemen?  I  move  that  we  throw  him 
downstairs." 

He  half  rose  as  he  spoke,  but  Frank  stood  his 
ground. 

"  You'd  better  not  try  it,"  he  said  quietly, 
"  unless  37ou  want  to  pass  the  night  in  the 
Btation-house." 

"What  do  you   mean,  you  young  jackanapes?" 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  123 

said  the  other  angrily.  "  What  charge  can  you 
trump  up  against  us  ?  " 

"  You  have  been  cheating  Fred  out  of  his 
money,"  said  Frank,  firmly. 

"  It's  a  lie  !  We've  been  having  a  friendly  game, 
and  he  lost.     If  we'd  lost,  we  would  have  paid." 

"How  much  did  he  lose?" 

"Five  dollars." 

"  And  you  took  ten  from  him." 

"  It's  a  lie  ! "  repeated  the  other ;  but  he  looked 
disconcerted. 

"It  is  true,  for  I  noticed  the  bill  as  you  took 
it  from  him.  But  it's  not  much  worse  than  playing 
for  money  with  him  when  he  is  in  no  condition 
to  understand  the  game.  You'd  better  give  him 
back  that  ten-dollar  bill." 

"  I've  a  great  mind  to  fling  you  downstairs, 
you  young  scamp  ! " 

"You  are  strong  enough  to  do  it,"  said  Frank, 
exhibiting  no  trace  of  fear,  "  but  I  think  you 
would  be  sorry  for  it  afterwards.     Come,  Fred." 

Though  Frank  was  so  much  younger  and  smaller, 
there    was    something    in    his   calm,    self-possessed 


124  THE    TELEGRAPH  BOY. 

manner  that  gave  him  an  ascendency  over  the  n  2ak, 
vacillating  Fred.  The  latter  rose,  and,  taking  our 
hero's  arm,  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Let  him  go,"  said  the  leader,  who  had  been 
made  uneasy  by  Frank's  threat,  and  saw  that  it 
was  politic  to  postpone  his  further  designs  upon 
his  intended  victim.  "If  he  chooses  to  obey  a 
small  telegraph  bo}T,  he  can." 

"Don't  mind  him,  Fred,"  said  Frank.  "You 
know  I'm  your   friend." 

' '  My  friend,  Frank  Kavanagh  ! "  repeated  Fred, 
drowsily.  "  I'm  awful  sleepy,  Frank.  I  want  to 
go   to   bed." 

"  You  shall  go  to  bed  as  soon  as  you  get 
home,  Fred." 

"I  say,  boy,"  said  the  leader,  uneasily,  "that 
was  all  a  lie  about  the  ten-dollar  bill.  You  didn't 
see  straight.     Did    he,    Bates?" 

"Of  course  he   didn't." 

"  One  lies  and  the  other  swears  to  it,"  thought 
Frank. 

"Nothing  will  be  done  about  it,"  he  said,  "if 
you  will  let  Fred   alone  hereafter.     The  money  you 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  125 

have  won  from  hiin  belongs  to  his  mother,  and, 
unless  j*ou  keep  away  from  him,  she  will  order 
your  arrest." 

"  You're  altogether  too  smart  for  a  boy  of  your 
size,"  sneered  the  other.  "Take  your  friend  away. 
We  don't  care  to  associate  with  a  milksop,  who 
allows  himself  to  be  ordered  around  by  women 
and   children." 

Fortunately  Fred  was  too  drowsy  to  paj^  heed 
to  what  was  being  said ;  in  fact,  he  was  very 
sleep}',  and  was  anxious  to  go  to  bed.  Frank 
got  him  into  a  cab,  and  in  twenty  minutes  they 
safely  reached  his  mother's  house  in  Thirty-eighth 
street. 

Mrs.  Vivian  was  anxiously  awaiting  the  return 
of  the  prodigal. 

"0  Fred,"  she  said,  "how  could  you  stay  away 
so,  when  you  know  how  worried  I  get?  You  have 
been   drinking,  too." 

"This  is  my  friend,  Frank  Kavanagh,"  hiccoughed 
Fred. 

"Shall  I  go  up  and  help  put  him  to  bed?" 
asked   Frank. 


126  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Does  he  require  help?"  asked  Mrs.  Vivian, 
sorrowfully. 

"He   has   been   drinking   a   good   deal." 

"  Yes,  you  may  go  up.  I  will  lead  the  way  to 
his  chamber.  Afterwards  I  want  to  speak  to 
you." 

"All  right." 

"Where  did  you  find  him?"  asked  Mrs.  Vivian, 
when  Frank  with  some  difficulty  had  prepared  his 
charge   for  bed. 

' '  In  the  billiard-saloon  to  which  you  directed 
me.  He  was  upstairs  playing  cards  for  money. 
The}-  were  cheating  him  in  the  most  outrageous 
manner." 

"I   suppose   they  got   all   his   money." 

' '  Not  all ;  but  they  would  soon  have  done  so. 
Here  is  his  pocket-book,  which  I  just  took  from 
his   pocket." 

"There  are  twenty  dollars  left,"  said  Mrs. 
Vivian,  after  an  examination.  "They  must  have 
secured  the  rest.  O  my  poor  boy!  Would  thit 
!  could  shield  you  from  these  dangerous  com- 
panions ! " 


TtTB    TELEGRAPH    BOT.  127 

•' 1  don't  think  they  will  trouble  hirn  again,  Mrs. 
Vivian. 

"Why   not?     You   do  not   know   them." 

"  I  told  them  that,  if  they  came  near  him,  here- 
after, you  would  have  them  arrested  for  swindling 
vour  son   out   of  money  belonging   to   you." 

"Will   that   have   any   effect   upon   them?" 

"  Yes,  because  they  know  that  I  am  ready  to 
appear   as   a   witness   against   them." 

"Did  Fred  show  any  unwillingness  to  come 
with  you?" 

"No;  I  made  him  think  I  was  an  old  acquaint- 
ance  of  his.     Besides,    he  was   feeling   sleepy." 

"  You  have  acted  with  great  judgment  for  so 
young  a  lad,"  said  Mrs.  Vivian.  "  I  wish  Fred 
had  a  companion  like  you  to  influence  him  for 
good.     Where   do  }tou   live?" 

"At  the  Newsboys  Lodging-IIouse.  I  cannot 
afford   to   hire    a   room." 

Mrs.   Vivian  looked  thoughtful. 

"  Give  me  your  name  and  address,"  she  said. 

These   she   noted   down. 

"I  won't    keep    you    any   longer   to-night,"    she 


128  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

said,    "  for  you   must   be    tired.      "  You    will  hear 
from   me   again." 

"Oh,"  said  Frank,  "I  nearly  forgot.  Here  is 
Uie  balance  of  the  money  you  handed  me  for 
expenses." 

"Keep  it  for  yourself,"  said  Mrs.  Vivian,  "and 
accept  my   thanks   besides." 

Though  Frank   had   paid   for  the   cab,  there  was 
a    balance    of    nearly  two    dollars    in    his  hands 
which  he  was  very  glad  to   keep. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  129 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

FRANK    MAKES    AN    EVENING    CALL. 

The  next  day  Frank  chanced  to  meet  Mrs. 
Vivian  in  the  street.     She  recognized   him  at  once. 

"  I  see  you  are  kept  bus}',"  she  said,  pleasantly. 

"Yes,"  answered  Frank.  "Our  business  is 
pretty  good  just   now.     How   is   your   son?" 

"  He  slept  well,  and  woke  much  refreshed  this 
morning.  He  is  a  good  boy  naturally,  but  una- 
ble to  withstand  temptation.  I  have  decided  to 
send  him  to  the  country  for  a  few  weeks,  to  visit 
a  cousin  of  about  bis  own  age.  There  he  will 
be  secure  from  temptation,  and  will  have  a  chance 
to  ride.  I  would  have  sent  him  away  before,  but 
that  it  would  leave  me  alone  in  the  house.  You 
told  me  last  evening  that  you  had  no  boarding- 
place." 

"  My  only  home  is  at  the  lodging-house,"  said 
Frank. 


130  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  occupy  a  room  at 
my  house   while   my   son   is   away  ? " 

"  Very    much,"   said   Frank,   promptly. 

"  I  shall  find  it  convenient  to  have  you  in  the 
house,  and  shall  feel  safer." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shouldn't  be  a  match  for  an 
able-bodied  burglar,"  said  Frank,  smiling. 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  you  could  summon  a  police- 
man. When  can  you  come  and  see  me  about 
this  arrangement?" 

"I   am   off  duty  to-night." 

"Very  well;  I  will  expect  you.  Fred  will  not 
go  away  till  to-morrow,  and  you  will  have  a 
chance  to  see  him  under  more  favorable  circum- 
stances  than   last  evening." 

"  Thank  you  very  much  for  your  kind  invita< 
tion,"   said   Frank,    politely. 

Mrs.  Vivian  bade  him  good-morning,  very  fa- 
vorably impressed  with  his  manners  and  deport- 
ment. 

Frank  looked  upon  the  proposal  made  him  by 
Mrs.  Vivian  as  a  piece  of  great  good-fortune. 
In   his   new    position,    excellent   as   were    the  beds 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BO 7.  13] 

at  the  lodging-house,  he  found  it  incouvenient  to 
go  there  to  sleep.  Once  or  twice,  on  account  of 
the  late  hour  at  which  he  was  released  from 
duty,  he  was  unable  to  secure  admittance,  and 
had  to  pa}'  fifty  cents  for  a  bed  at  a  hotel  on 
the  European  system.  He  had  for  some  time 
been  thinking  seriously  of  hiring  a  room  ;  but  the 
probable  expense  deterred  him.  At  Mrs.  Vivian's 
he    would   have   nothing   to   pay. 

In  the  evening  he  changed  his  uniform  for  the 
neat  suit  given  him  by  Mr.  Bowen,  and  about 
eight  o'clock  rang  the  bell  of  the  house  in  Thirty- 
eighth    street. 

He  was  at  once  ushered  into  the  presence  of 
Mrs.  Vivian   and  her   son. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,  my  young  friend," 
said  Mrs.  Vivian,  glancing  with  approval  at  the 
neat  appearance  of  her  young  visitor.  "  Fred, 
this  is  the  young  man  who  brought  you  home  last 
night." 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Fred  Vivian, 
offering  his  hand  to  Frank.  "  I  am  ashamed  of 
having  been   found   in   such   a   place." 


132  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  I  don't  think  the  young  men  with  you  were 
very  much  your  friends,"  said  Frank;  "I  detected 
one  in  cheating  you." 

"You   mean   at  cards?" 

"  I  don't  mean  that,  though  I  presume  they 
did ;  but  you  handed  a  ten-dollar  bill  to  one  of 
them,    and   he   took   it   as   a   five." 

"Are  you  sure  of  that?"  asked  Fred,  his  face 
flushing   with   indignation. 

"  Yes,  I  saw  the  number  of  the  bill,  though 
he   put   it   away  very   quickly." 

"  And  I  had  been  treating  that  fellow  all  the 
afternoon !    I  gave   him   a   good  dinner,  too." 

"  Are  you  surprised  at  such  treatment  from 
such  a  person?"  asked  his  mother.  "I  should 
have  expected   it." 

"  I  will  never  notice  the  fellow  again  as  long 
as  I  live,"  said  Fred,  who  seemed  a  good  deal 
impressed  b}T  his  companion's  treachery.  "  Why, 
it's  nothing  better  than   robbery." 

"You  have  given  it  the  right  name,  Fred,"  said 
his  mother,  quietly. 

"  He  ought  to  give  the  money  back,"  said  Fred. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  133 

"  Let  it  go,  my  son.  I  am  willing  to  lose  it,  if  it 
severs  all  acquaintance  between  you  and  your  un- 
worthy companions." 

"Have  I  ever  met  you  before?"  asked  Fred, 
turning  to  Frank. 

' '  Not  before  last  evening." 

' '  I  thought  you  spoke  of  yourself  as  an  old 
acquaintance." 

"  That  was  to  induce  you  to  come  with  me," 
explained  Frank.  "  I  hope  you  will  excuse  the 
deception." 

"  Certainly  I  will.  I  had  been  drinking  so  much 
that  it  was  quite  necessary  to  treat  me  as  a  child  ; 
but  I  don't  mean  to  be  caught  in  such  a  scrape 
again." 

"  May  you  keep  that  resolution,  Fred  ! "  said  his 
mother,  earnestly. 

"I  will  try  to,  mother." 

"  My  mother  tells  me  that  you  are  going  to 
take  my  place  while  I  am  in  the  country,"  said 
Fred,  turning  to  Frank. 

"I  shall  be  very  glad  to  do  so,"  said  our 
hero.     "I  nevei  had  such  a  good  home  before." 


164:  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

*'  You  «re  a  telegraph  boy,  are  you  not?"  asked 
Fred. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Frank. 

"Tell  me  about  it.     Is  it  hard  work?" 

"  Not  iard,  but  sometimes  when  I  have  been 
kept  pretty  busy,  I  get  tired  towards  night." 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  rather  good  fun," 
said  Fred. 

"Do  you  think  you  would  like  it?"  asked  his 
mother,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  might  like  it  for  about  half  a  day,  but  all 
day  would  be  too  much  for  me.  However,  I  am 
too  old  for   such   a   position." 

Fred  had  no  false  pride,  and  though  he  knew 
that  Frank  was  in  a  social  position  considerably 
below  his  own,  he  treated  him  as  an  equal. 
Those  who  are  secure  of  their  own  position  are 
much  more  likely  to  avoid  ' '  putting  on  airs " 
than  those  who  have  recently  been  elevated  in 
the  social  scale.  Frank  was  destined  that  same 
evening  to  see  the  contrast  between  true  and  falso 
gentility. 

It  so  happened  that  Victor  Dupont,  already  men- 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  135 

tioned,  was  an  acquaintance  and  former  school- 
fellow of  Fred  Vivian.  It  also  chanced  that  he 
selected  this  evening  for  a  call,  as  the  Vivians 
stood  very  high  socially,  being  an  old  family. 
Victor  was  rather  proud  of  his  acquaintance  with 
them,  and  took  occasion  to  call  frequently. 

As   he    was    ushered    into   the   room   he   did    not 
at  first  recognize  Frank  in  his  new  clothes. 

"  Victor,  this  is  a  friend  of  mine,  Frank  Kava- 
nagh,"  said  Fred,  introducing  his  two  visitors. 
"Frank,  let  me  introduce  my  old  school-fellow 
Victor   Dupont." 

"  We     are     already     acquainted,"     said     Frank. 
"  Good-evening,   Victor." 

Victor  stared  in  amusing  astonishment  at  Frank. 

"How  do  you  happen  to  be  here?"  asked  Victor, 
brusquely. 

"By  Mrs.  Vivian's  kind  invitation,'    said  Frank, 
quite  at  ease. 

"How  do  you  two  happen  to  know  each  other?" 
asked  Fred. 

"  We    met    in    the    country    last    summer,"    said 
Frank,    finding  Victor   did   not   answer. 


136  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  I  suppose  you  had  a  very  good  time  together," 
said  Mrs.   Vivian. 

"  Our  acquaintance  was  very  slight,"  said  Victor 
superciliously. 

"  We  must  have  gone  fishing  together  at  least 
a  dozen  times,"   said  Frank,   quietly. 

' '  How  in  the  world  did  the  fellow  thrust  him- 
self in  here?"  said  Victor  to  himself.  "They 
can't  know   his   low   position." 

In  the  amiable  desire  of  enlightening  the  Vivians 
Victor  took  an  early  opportunity  to  draw  Fred 
aside. 

"Have  you  known  Frank  Kavanagh  long?"  he 
asked. 

"  Not  very  long." 

"Do  you  know  that  he  is  a  telegraph  boy?" 

"  Oh,   yes,"    answered   Fred,   smiling. 

"  He  used  to  be  a  newsboy,  and  sell  papers  in 
the  lower  part  of  the  city." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  said  Fred,  indifferently. 

"  I  must  say  that  I  am  rather  surprised  to  see 
him  here." 

"Why?"  asked  Fred,  with  provoking  calmness. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  137 

"  Oh,  you  know,  he  is  much  below  us  in  a 
social   point  of  view." 

"I  know  that  he  is  a  poor  boy ;  but  some  of 
our  most   prominent   men   were   once  poor  boys." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  mixing  up  different  ranks." 

"  You  didn't  think  so  in  the  country  last 
summer." 

"  Oh,  well,  a  fellow  must  have  some  company, 
and   there   was   no   better  to   be   had." 

"  You  will  probably  be  surprised  to  hear  that 
your  old  acquaintance  is  to  live  here  while  I  am 
in  the  country.  I  am  going  away  to-morrow  to 
spend  a  few  weeks  with  my  cousin." 

"Is  it  possible!"  exclaimed  Victor,  in  surprise 
and  annoyance.  "  Perhaps  he  is  to  be  here  as 
an  errand  boy?"  he  suggested,  evidently  relieved 
by  the  idea. 

"  Oh,  no ;  he  will  be  treated  in  all  respects  as 
one   of  the   famiby." 

"  Hadn't  you  better  tell  j^our  mother  that  he 
was  once  a  newsboy?  She  might  recall  the  in- 
vitation." 

' '  It    would    make    no    difference    with    her.      It 


138  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

seems  Lo  111c,  Victor,  you  are  prejudiced  against 
Frank." 

"No,  I  an  not;  but  I  like  to  see  newsboys 
and  telegraph  messengers  keep  their  place." 

"  Sc  do  I.  I  hope  Frank  will  keep  his  place 
till  he  can  find  a  better  one." 

"  That  isn't  what  I  meant.  How  can  you  as- 
sociate with  such  a  boy  on  an  equality?" 

"Because  he  seems  well-bred  and  gentlemanly." 

"  I  don't  believe  he  gets  more  than  three  or 
four  dollars  a  week,"  said  Victor,  contemptuously. 

"  Then  I  really  hope  his  wages  will  soon  be 
increased." 

Victor  saw  that  he  could  do  Frank  no  harm, 
and  was  forced,  out  of  policy,  to  treat  our  hero 
with  more  politeness  than  he  wished. 

When  Frank  rose  to  go,  Mrs.  Vivian  desired 
him  to  send  round  his  trunk,  and  take  possession 
of  his  room  the  next  day. 

"  She  doesn't  suspect  that  I  never  owned  a 
trunk,"  thought  Frank.  "  I  will  buy  one  to- 
morrow, though  I  haven't  got  much  to  put  in 
it." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  189 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AT     "WALLACES     THEATRE . 

The  next  da y  Frank  devoted  what  small  leisure 
he  had  to  the  purchase  of  a  trunk,  in  which  he 
stored  his  small  supply  of  clothing,  leaving  out, 
however,  the  clothes  in  which  he  made  his  first 
appearance  in  the  city.  These  he  gave  to  his 
friend,  Dick  Raffertj',  to  whom  they  were  a  wel- 
come gift,  being  considerably  better  than  those 
he  usually  wore.  Dick  might,  out  of  his  earn- 
ings, have  dressed  better,  but  when  he  had  any 
extra  money  it  went  for  some  kind  of  amuse- 
ment. He  was  one  of  the  steadiest  patrons  of 
the  Old  Bowery,  and  was  often  to  be  seen  in 
the  gallery  of  other  places  of  amusement.  He 
was  surprised  to  hear  of  Frank's  intended  removal 
from  the  lodging-house. 

"I  say,  Frank,"  he  said,  "you're  gettin'  on 
fast.  Here  jon  are,  goin'  to  live  in  a  tip-top 
house  up-town.     You'll  be  a  reg'lar  swell." 


140  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  I    hope    not,    Dick.     I   don't   like    swells   ver^ 

muck." 

"  You  won't  notice  your  old  friends  bhneby." 

"  That  shows  }Tou  don't  know  me,  Dick.     I  shall 

be  glad  to  notice  you  whenever  we  meet.'' 

» 
"  I    don't    see    why   I    can't    be    in    luck    too,' 

said  Dick.     "I   wish   I   could  find   some  rich  lady 

to  give  me  a  room  in  her  house." 

"  You'll  have  to  get  some  new  clothes  first, 
Dick." 

"  I  know  I  aint  got  a  genteel  look,"  said 
Dick,  surveying  his  well-worn  clothes,  soiled  and 
ragged;  "but  it  wouldn't  be  no  use  if  I  was  to 
dress  in  velvet." 

"  Unless  3'ou  kept  your  face  clean,"  suggested 
Frank. 

"  A  feller  can't  be  washin'  his  face  all  the 
time,"  said  Dick. 

"  It's  the  fashion  to  have  a  clean  face  in  good 
society,"  said  Frank,  smiling. 

"  It  must  be  a  good  deal  of  trouble,"  said 
Dick.     "  Is  my  face  very  dirty  ?  " 

"  Not    ver}T.      There's     a    black    spot    on    each 


THE     TELEGRAPH    HOT.  141 

cheek,  and  one  on  the  side  of  your  nose,  and 
your  chin  looks  a  little  shady." 

"  A  feller  can't  keep  very  clean  in  my  busi- 
ness." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  rather  hard,"  Frank  admitted ; 
"  but  you  won't  be  a  boot-black  always,  I  hope." 

"  I'd  just  as  lieves  give  it  up  for  bankin',  or 
cashier  of  a  savings-bank,"  said  Dick.  "  Them's 
light,  genteel  kinds  of  business,  and  don't  dirty 
the  hands." 

"  Well,  Dick,  if  I  hear  of  an  opening  in  eithei 
line  I'll  let  you  know.  Now  I  must  go  and  buy 
a  trunk." 

"  I  never  expect  to  get  as  far  as  a  trunk," 
said  Dick.  "  I  shall  feel  like  a  gentleman  when 
I  can  set  up  one.  It  wouldn't  be  no  use  to  me 
now.  I'd  have  to  stuff  it  with  rocks  to  make  a 
show." 

"Poor  Dick!"  thought  Frank  as  he  left  his 
friend.  "  He  takes  the  world  too  easy.  He 
hasn't  any  ambition,  or  he  wouldn't  be  content 
to  keep  on  blacking  boots  when  there  are  so 
many  better   ways  of  making   a   living.     If  I   ever 


142  THE     TELEGRAPR     BOY. 

get  a  chance  to  give  him  a  lift  I  will.  He 
aint  much  to  look  at,  but  he's  a  good-hearted 
boy,  and  would  put  himself  to  a  good  deal  of 
trouble  to  do  me  a  favor." 

It  was  not  much  trouble  to  pack  his  trunk. 
Indeed,  he  had  scarcely  enough  clothing  to  fill  it 
one-third   full. 

"I  may  have  to  adopt  Dick's  plan,  and  fill  it 
with  rocks,"  said  Frank  to  himself.  "  Some  day  I 
shall  be  better  supplied.  I  can't  expect  to  get  on 
too  fast." 

The  room  assigned  to  Frank  was  a  small  one ; 
but  it  was  neatly  furnished,  and  provided  with  a 
closet.  The  bed,  with  its  clean  white  spread, 
looked  very  tempting,  and  Frank  enjoyed  the 
prospect  of  the  privacy  he  would  have  in  a  room 
devoted  to  his  sole  use.  At  the  lodging-house, 
though  his  bed  was  comfortable,  there  were  sixty 
to  eighty  boys  who  slept  in  the  same  room,  and 
of  course  he  had  no  more  rights  than  any  other. 

"  1  hope  you  like  }'our  room,  Frank,"  said 
Mrs.    Vivian. 

"It   is   the   best   I   ever   had,"   he   replied. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  143 

•'How  early  are  you  obliged  to  be  on  duty?" 
she    asked. 

"  At   eight   o'clock." 

"I  do  not  breakfast  till  that  hour;  but  I  will 
direct  the  cook  to  have  a  cup  of  coffee  and  some 
breakfast   read}'   for   you   at   seven." 

"  Am  I  to  take  my  meals  here?"  asked  Frank,  in 
surprise. 

"  Certainly.  Did  }tou  think  I  was  going  to  send 
you  out  to  a  restaurant?"  inquired  Mrs.  Vivian, 
smiling. 

"I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you ;  but  I  am 
afraid  it  will  inconvenience  the  cook  to  get  me 
an  early  breakfast." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  so  considerate  of  others. 
I  can  answer  for  Mary,  however,  who  is  very 
obliging.  You  can  get  lunch  outside,  as  I  sup- 
pose it  will  be  inconvenient  for  you  to  leave  your 
duties   to   come   so   far   as   Thirty-eighth   street." 

"You  are  very  kind  to  me,  Mrs.  Vivian,"  said 
Frank,   gratefully. 

"  I  shall  claim  an  occasional  service  of  you 
in  return,"    said   Mrs.    Vivian. 


1 44  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  I   hope  you   will,"   said   Frank,    promptly. 

Two  days  after  he  had  taken  up  his  residence 
in  his  new  quarters  Frank  was  called  upon  to 
render   a   very  agreeable  service. 

"  I  have  two  tickets  for  Wallack's  theatre  for 
this  evening,"  said  Mrs.  Vivian.  "  Will  it  be 
agreeable   for  you   to   accompanj^   me?" 

"  I    should   like   it   very    much." 

"Then  you  shall  be  my  escort.  When  Fred  is 
at  home  he  goes  with  me ;  but  now  I  must  de 
pend  on  you.     Have  you  a  pair  of  kid  gloves?" 

Frank  was  obliged  to  confess  that  he  had  not 
In    fact   he   had    never  owned   a   pair   in   his   life. 

"  I  will  give  you  a  pair  of  mine.  Probably 
there  is  little  difference  in  the  size  of  our  hands." 

This  proved  to  be  true. 

Somehow  Frank  in  his  new  life  seemed  always 
running  across  Victor  Dupont.  That  young  gentle- 
man and  his  sister  sat  in  the  row  behind  Mrs. 
Vivian  and  her  youthful  escort,  but  did  not  im- 
mediately  become   aware   of  it. 

"  Why,  Victor,"  said  his  sister,  who  had  been 
looking   about  her,  "there    is    Mrs.  Vivian    in   the 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.    '  145 

next  row.  Who  is  that  nice-looking  boy  with  her? 
It  can't  be  Fred,  for  he  is  larger." 

Victor  turned  his  glance  in  the  direction  of  Mrs. 
Vivian.  His  surprise  and  disgust  were  about  equal 
when  he  saw  the  country-boy  he  had  looked  down 
upon,  faultlessly  attired,  with  neat-fitting  gloves, 
and  a  rose  in  his  button-hole  and  looking  like  a 
gentleman. 

"I  never  saw  such  cheek!"  he  exclaimed,  in 
disgust. 

"What  do  vou  mean,  Victor?"  asked  his  sister, 
looking   puzzled. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  who  that  boy  is  with 
Mrs.  Vivian?" 

"Yes;   he   is   very  nice-looking." 

"Then  you  can  marry  him  if  you  like.  That  boy 
is  a  telegraph  messenger.  I  used  to  know  him  in 
the  country.  A  few  weeks  ago  he  was  selling 
papers   in   front   of  the   Astor   House." 

"You  don't  say  so!"  ejaculated  Flora  Dupont, 
'Aren't  you   mistaken?" 

"I  guess  not.  I  know  him  as  well  as  I  know 
you." 


146  THE     TELEGRAPH    B07. 

"He  is  a  good-looking  boy,  at  any  rate,"  said 
Flora,  who  was   less   snobbish  than   her  brother. 

"I  can't  see  it,"  said  Victor,  annoj'ed.  "He 
looks  to  me  very  common  and  vulgar.  I  don't 
see  how  Mrs.  Vivian  can  be  willing  to  appear 
with   him   at   a   fashionable  theatre   like   this." 

"  It's  a  pity  he  is  a  telegraph  bo}7,  he  is  so 
nice-looking." 

Just  then  Frank,  turning,  recognized  Victor  and 
bowed.  Victor  could  not  afford  not  to  recognize 
Mrs.   Vivian's   escort,   and   bowed   in   return. 

But  Victor  was  not  the  only  one  of  Frank's 
acquaintances  who  recognized  him  that  evening. 
In  the  upper  gallery  sat  Dick  Rafferty  and  Micky 
Shea,  late  fellow-boarders  at  the  lodging-house. 
It  was  not  often  that  these  young  gentlemen  pat- 
ronized Wallack's,  for  even  a  gallery  ticket  there 
was  high-priced ;  but  both  wanted  to  see  the  popu- 
lar play  of  "Ours,"  and  had  managed  to  scrape 
together  fifty   cents   each. 

"Dick,"  said  Micky,  suddenly,  "there's  Frank 
Kavanagh  down  near  the  stage,  in  an  orchestra  seat." 

"So  he  is,"  said  Dick.     "  Aint  he  dressed  splen- 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  147 

did  though,  wid  kid  gloves  on  and  a  flower  in  his 
button-hole,  and  an  elegant  lady  beside  him?  See, 
she's  whisperm'  to  him  now.  Who'd  think  he  used 
to   kape   company   wid   the   likes   of  us?" 

"Frank's  up  in  the  world.  He's  a  reg'lar  swell 
now." 

"  And  it's  I  that  am  glad  of  it.  He's  a  good 
fellow,  Frank  is,  and  he  won't  turn  his  back  on 
us." 

This  was  proved  later  in  the  evening,  for,  as  Frank 
left  the  theatre  with  Mrs.  Vivian,  he  espied  his  two 
old  friends  standing  outside,  and  bowed  with  a 
pleasant  smile,  much  to  the  gratification  of  the  two 
street  boys,  who  were  disposed  to  look  upon  their 
old   friend   as   one   of  the  aristocracy. 


148  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FRANK    AS    A    DETECTIVE. 

Of  course  Frank's  daily  duties  were  for  the  most 
part  of  a  commonplace  character.  They  were 
more  varied,  to  be  sure,  than  those  of  an  errand- 
boy,  or  shop-boy,  but  even  a  telegraph  messenger 
does  not  have  an  adventure  every  day.  Twice  in  the 
next  three  weeks  our  hero  was  summoned  by  Mrs. 
Leroy  to  give  her  pet  dog  an  airing.  It  was  not 
hard  work,  but  Frank  did  not  fancy  it,  though  he 
never  failed  to  receive  a  handsome  fee  from  the  mis- 
tress of  Fido. 

One  day  Frank  was  summoned  to  a  fashionable 
boarding-house  in  a  side  street  above  the  Fifth- 
avenue  hotel.  On  presenting  himself,  the  servant 
said,  "It's  one  of  the  boarders  wants  you.  Stay 
here,    and   I'll   let   him   know  3'ou've    come." 

"All   right!"    said   Frank. 

"  Come  right  up,"  said  the  girl,  directly  after, 
speaking   from   the   upper   landing. 


THE     TELECRAPn    BOY.  149 

Frank  ascended  the  stairs,  and  entered  a  room  on 
the  second  floor.  A  gentleman,  partially  bald,  with 
a  rim  of  red  hair  around  the  bare  central  spot,  sat 
iri  a  chair  b}r  the  window,  reading  a  morning  paper 

"So  you're  the  telegraph  boy,  are  you ?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  You  are  honest,  eh?  " 

"  I   hope   so,  sir." 

"  Because  I  am  going  to  trust  you  with  a  consid- 
erable  sum   of    mone}-." 

"  It  will  be  safe,  sir." 

"  I  want  you  to  do  some  shopping  for  me.  Are 
you   ever  employed   in   that   way  ?  " 

"  I   was   once,   sir." 

"Let  me  see, — I  want  some  linen  handkerchiefs 
and  some  collars.  Are  you  a  judge  of  those 
articles  ?  " 

"Not   particularly." 

"  However,  I  suppose  3'ou  know  a  collar  from  a 
pair  of  cuffs,  and  a  handkerchief  from  a  towel," 
said  the  stranger,  petulantly. 

"  I  rather  think  I  can  tell  them  apart,"  said  Frank. 

"  Now  let  me  see  how  many  I  want,"  said  the 


150  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOT. 

stranger,  reflectively.  "  I  think  half-a-dozen  hand- 
kerchiefs  will   do." 

"How  high  shall  I  go?"  asked  Frank. 

"You  ought  to  get  them  for  fifty  cents  apiece,  I 
should  think." 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  can  get  them  for  that." 

"And  the  collars — well,  half-a-dozen  will  do. 
Get  them  of  good  qualitj',  size  15,  and  pay  what- 
ever  is   asked." 

"Yes,  sir;  do  yon  want  anything  more?" 

"  I  think  not,  this  morning.  I  have  a  headache, 
or  I  would  go  out  myself,"  explained  the  stranger. 
"I  live  up  the  Hudson,  and  I  must  go  home  this 
afternoon   by  the   boat." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  buy  the  articles  at  any  par- 
ticular store  ?  "  inquired  Frank. 

"  No ;  I  leave  that  to  your  judgment.  A  large 
store  is  likely  to  have  a  better  assortment,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  Very  well,    sir." 

"Come   back   as   soon  as  you   can,  that's  all." 

"  You  haven't  given  me  the  monej'  yet,  sir," 
said   Frank. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY  151 

"Oh,  I  beg  pardon!  That  is  an  important 
omission." 

The   stranger   drew  out  a  pocket-book,  which  ap 
peared  to  be   well   filled,    and    extracted   two   bills 
of  twenty  dollars  each,  which  he   passed   to  Frank. 

"  This  is  too  much,  sir,"  said  the  telegraph 
boy.  "One  of  these  bills  will  be  much  more 
than    sufficient." 

"Never  mind.  I  should  like  to  have  them  both 
changed.  You  can  buy  the  articles  at  different 
places,  as  this  will  give  you  a  chance  to  get 
change   for  both." 

"  I   can   get  them   changed   at   a   bank,   sir." 

"No,"  said  the  stranger,  hastily,  "I  would 
rather  you  would  pay  them  for  goods.  Shop- 
keepers are  bound  to  change  bills  for  a  cus- 
tomer." 

"  I  don't  see  what  difference  it  makes  to  you 
as  long  as  they  are  changed," .  thought  Frank. 
However  it  was  not  his  business  to  question  his 
employer's    decision. 

Sixth  avenue  was  not  far  distant,  and  as  Frank 
was    left    to    his    own    choice   he    betook   himself 


152  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

hither  on  his  shopping  tour.  Entering  a  large  re- 
tail store,  he  inquired  for  gentleman's  linen  hand- 
kerchiefs. 

"Large  or  small?"  asked  the  girl  in  attend- 
ance. 

"Large,    I   should   think." 

He  was  shown  some  of  good  quality,  at  fifty 
cents. 

"I  think  they  will  do,"  said  Frank,  after  ex- 
amination.    "  I   will  take   half-a-dozen." 

So  saying  he  drew  out  one  of  the  twenty-dollar 
bills. 

"Cash!"  called  the  saleswoman,  tapping  on  the 
counter   with   her   pencil. 

Several  small  boys  were  flitting  about  the  store 
in  the  service  of  customers.  One  of  them  made 
his    appearance. 

"Have  you  nothing  smaller?"  asked  the  girl, 
noticing  the   denomination   of  the   bill. 

"No,"    answered   Frank. 

She  put  the  bill  between  the  leaves  of  a  small 
blank  book,  and  handed  both  that  and  the  goods 
to  the  boy. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  153 

Frank  sat  down  on  a  stool  by  the  counter  to 
wait. 

Presently  the  cash-boy  came  back,  and  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  store  with  him.  He  was  a  portly 
man,  with  a  loud  voice  and  an  air  of  authority. 
To   him   the   cash-boy   pointed   out   Frank. 

"  Are  you  the  purchaser  of  these  handkerchiefs?" 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Frank,  rather  surprised 
at  the   question. 

"  And  did  you  offer  this  twenty-dollar  bill  in 
payment  ?  " 

"Yes,   sir." 

"Where  did  you  get  it?  Think  well,"  said  the 
trader,    sternly. 

"What  is'  the  matter?  Isn't  the  bill  a  good 
one  ?  "   asked   Frank. 

"You  have  not  answered  my  question.  How- 
ever, I  will  answer  yours.  The  bill  is  a  coun- 
terfeit." 

Frank  looked  surprised,  and  he  understood  at 
a  flash  why  he  had  been  trusted  with  two  of 
these  hills  when  one  would  answer. 


154  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"I  have  nothing  to  do  with  that,"  said  the 
telegraph  boy.  "  I  was  sent  out  to  buy  some 
articles,  and  this  money  was  given  me  to  pay  for 
them." 

"  Have  you  got  any  other  money  of  this  de- 
scription?"   asked   the   trader,    suspiciousty. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Frank,  readily.  "  I  have  an- 
other  twenty." 

"  Let  me  see  it."  . 

"  Certainly.  I  should  like  to  know  whether  that 
is  bad  too." 

The  other  twenty  proved  to  be  a  fac-simile  of 
the  first. 

"I  must  know  where  you  got  this  money," 
said  the  merchant.  "You  may  be  in  the  service 
of  counterfeiters." 

"You  might  know,  from  my  uniform,  that  I  am 
not,"  said  Frank,  indignantly.  "  I  once  lost  a 
place  because  I  would  not  pass  counterfeit 
money." 

"I  have  a  detective  here.  You  must  lead  him 
to   the   man   who   supplied  you  with  the  money." 

"I   am   quite   willing   to   do  it,"  said  our   hero. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  156 

'*  He  wanted  to  make  a  tool  of  me.  If  I  can 
put  him   into  the   hands   of  the   law,    I   will." 

"  That  boy  is  all  right,"  said  a  gentleman 
standing  by.  "  The  rogue  was  quite  ingenious  in 
trying  to  work  off  his  bad  money  through  a 
telegraph   messenger." 

"What  is  the  appearance  of  this  man?"  asked 
the   detective   as   they   walked   along. 

"  Rather   a   reddish   face,    and   partly   bald." 

"What   is   the   color  of  the   hair  he   has?" 

"Red." 

"Very  good.  It  ought  to  be  easy  to  know 
him  by  that   description." 

"I  should  know  him  at  once,"  said  Frank, 
promptly. 

"If  he  has  not  changed  his  appearance.  It  is 
easy  to  do  that,  and  these  fellows  understand  it 
well." 

Reaching  the  house,  Frank  rang  the  bell,  the 
detective  sauntering  along  on  the  opposite  side  of  I  he 
street. 

"  Is  Mr.  Stanley  at  home?"  asked  Frank. 

"  I  will  see." 


156  the   TELRnntpn   nor. 

The  girl  came  down  directly,  with  the  information 
that  Mr.   Stanley  had  gone  out. 

"That  is  queer,"  said  Frank.  "He  told  me  to 
come  right  back.  He  said  he  had  a  headache,  too, 
and  did  not  want  to  go  out." 

As  he  spoke,  his  glance  rested  on  a  man  who  was 
lounging  at  the  corner.  This  man  had  black  hair, 
and  a  full  black  beard.  By  chance,  Frank's  eye  fell 
upon  his  right  hand,  and  with  a  start  he  recognized 
a  large  ring  with  a  sparkling  diamond,  real  or  imita- 
tion. This  ring  he  had  last  seen  on  Mr.  Stanley's 
hand.  He  crossed  the  street  in  a  quiet,  indifferent 
manner,  and  imparted  his  suspicions  to  the  detective. 

"  Good  !  "  said  the  latter  ;  "  3-011  are  a  smart  boy." 

He  approached  the  man  alluded  to,  who,  confident 
in  his  disguise,  did  not  budge,  and,  placing  his  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  said,  "  Mr.  Stanley,  I  believe." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  the  man,  shrugging  his 
shoulders  in  a  nonchalant  way,  with  a  foreign  accent, 
"  I  am  M.  Lavalctte.     I  do  not  know  your  M.  Stan- 

ley." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  fbigetful,  monsieur.  I  beg 
pardon,  but  do  you  wear  a  wig?"   and  with  a  quick 


THE    TELEGRAPn    BOY.  157 

movement  he  removed  the  stranger's  hat,  and,  dis- 
lodging his  black  wig,  displayed  the  rim  of  red  hair 

"  This  is  an  outrage  !  "  said  the  rogue,  angrily  ;  " 
will   have  you   arrested,   monsieur." 

"  I  will  give  3'ou  a  chance,  for  here  is  an  officer," 
said  the   detective. 

"I  give  this  man  in  charge  for  passing  counter- 
feit money,"  said  the  detective.  "  The  next  time, 
Mr.  Stanley,  don't  select  so  smart  a  telegraph  boy. 
He  recognized  you,  in  spite  of  your  disguise,  by 
the   ring   upon   your   finger." 

The  rogue  angrily  drew  the  ring  from  his  finger, 
and   threw  it  on   the  sidewalk. 

"Curse  the  ring!"  he  said.  "It  has  betrayed 
me." 

It  only  remains  to  add  that  Stanley  was  convicted 
through  Frank's  testimony.  He  proved  to  be  an 
old  offender,  an^  the  chief  of  a  gang  of  counter 
feitera. 


158  THE    TELEGRAPH    MOT 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

FRANK  MEETS  AN  OLD  ACQUAINTANCE. 

Frank  was  more  fortunate  than  the  generality  of 
the  telegraph  boys  in  obtaining  fees  from  those  who 
employed  him.  He  was  not  allowed  to  solicit  gifts, 
but  was  at  libert}r  to  accept  them  when  offered.  In 
one  way  or  another  he  found  his  weekly  receipts 
came  to  about  seven  dollars.  Out  of  this  sum  he 
would  have  been  able  to  save  monej7,  even  if  he 
had  been  obliged  to  pay  all  his  expenses,  that  is 
03T  the  exercise  of  strict  economy.  But,  as  we  know, 
he  was  at  no  expense  for  room  or  board,  with  the 
exception  of  a  light  lunch  in  the  middle  of  the  day. 
Making  a  little  calculation,  he  found  that  he  could 
save  about  four  dollars  a  week.  As  it  had  only 
been  proposed  to  him  to  sta}'  at  Mrs.  Vivian's 
while  Fred  was  in  the  country,  it  seemed  prudent 
to  Frank  to  "  make  hay  while  the  sun  shone,"  and 
save  up  a  little  fund  from  which  he  could  hereafter 
draw,  in  case  it  were  necessary. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  \o6 

So  when  lie  had  saved  ten  dollars  he  presented 
himself  at  the  counter  of  the  Dime  Savings-Bank, 
then  located  in  Canal  street,  and  deposited  it,  receiv- 
ing a  bank-book,  which  he  regarded  with  great 
pride. 

"  I  begin  to  feel  like  a  capitalist,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  I  am  rather  better  off  now  than  I  was 
when  I  led  round  old  Mills,  the  blind  man.  I 
wonder   how   he   is   getting   along." 

As  Frank  entered  Broadway  from  Canal  street, 
by  a  strange  coincidence  he  caught  sight  of  the 
man  of  whom  he  had  been  thinking.  Mills,  with 
the  same  querulous,  irritable  expression  he  knew 
well,  was  making  his  way  up  Broadway,  led  by  a 
boj7  younger  than   Frank. 

"  Pity  a  poor  blind  man  !  "  he  muttered  from  time 
to   time   in  a   whining  voice. 

"  Look  out,  you  young  rascal,  or  you  will  have 
mo  off  the  sidewalk,"  Frank  heard  the  blind  man 
say;  "I'll  have  a  reckoning  with  you  when  I 
get  home." 

The  boy,  who  was  pale  and  slight,  looked  fright- 
ened. 


160  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"I  couldn't  help  it,  Mr.  Mills,"  he  said.  "It 
was   the   crowd." 

"  You  are  getting  careless,  that's  what's  the 
matter,"  said  Mills,  harshly.  "  You  are  looking  in 
at   the   shop   windows,    and   neglect  me." 

"  No,  I  am  not,"  said  the  boy,  in  meek  remon- 
strance. 

"Don't  you  contradict  me!"  exclaimed  the  blind 
man,  grasping  his  stick  significantly.  "  Pity  a  poor 
blind   man  !  " 

"  What  an  old  brute  he  is  !  *'  thought  Frank  ;  "  I 
will   speak   to   him." 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Mills?"  he  said,  halting 
before   the   blind   man. 

"Who   are  you?"   demanded  Mills,  quickly. 

"  You  ought  to  know  me  ;  I  am  Frank  Kavanagh, 
who   used   to   go   round   with  you." 

"I  have  had  so  many  boys  — most  of  them  good 
for   nothing  —  that   I   don't   remember  you." 

"  I  am  the  boy  who  wouldn't  pass  counterfeit 
money  for  you." 

"Hush!"  said  the  blind  man  apprehensively, 
lest    some    one    should    hear   Frank.     "  There    was 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  161 

some  mistake  about  that.  I  remember  you  now. 
Do  you  want  to  come  back?  This  boy  doesn't 
attend   to   his   business." 

Frank  laughed.  Situated  as  he  was  now,  the  pro- 
posal seemed  to  him  an  excellent  joke,  and  he  waa 
disposed   to   treat   it   as   such. 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,  Mr.  Mills,  3*011  fed  me  on  such 
rich  food  that  I  shouldn't  dare  to  go  back  for  fear 
of  dyspepsia." 

"  Or   starvation,"   he   added   to  himself 

"I  live  better  now,"  said  Mills.  "  I  haven't  had 
any  boy  since,    that   suited   me  as  well  as  you." 

' '  Thank  you  ;  but  I  am  afraid  it  would  be  a  long 
time  before  I  got  rich  on  the  wages  }Tou  would 
give  me." 

"  I'll  give  you  fifty  cents  a  week,"  said  Mills, 
"  and  more  if  I  do  well.  You  can  come  to-day, 
if  you    like." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  but  I  am  doing  better 
than   that,"   said   Frank. 

uWhat  are   }Tou   doing,  —  selling  papers?" 

"  No ;    I   have    given   that    up.      I     am   a    tek> 
graph  boy." 


162  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"How   much   do   you  make?" 

"  Seven   dollars   last   week." 

"  Why,  you  will  be  rich,"  said  the  blind  man, 
enviously.  "  I  don't  think  I  get  as  much  as  that 
myself,    and   I  have   to   pa}^  a   boy  out  of  it." 

His  poor  guide  did  not  have  the  appearance  of 
being   very  liberally  paid. 

"Then  jrou  won't  come  back?"  said  Mills,  quer- 
ulously. 

"  No,   I  guess  not." 

"  Come  along,  boy!  "  said  Mills,  roughly,  to  his 
little  guide.  "  Are  you  going  to  keep  me  here 
all   day?" 

"  I   thought  you   wanted   to  speak  to  this   boy." 

"  Well,  I  have  got  through.  He  has  deserted 
me.  It  is  the  wa}r  of  the  world.  There's  nobody 
to  pity  the  poor,  blind  man." 

"  Here's  five  cents  for  old  acquaintance'  sake. 
Mr.  Mills,"  said  Frank,  dropping  a  nickel  into, 
the  hand  of  the  boy  who  was  guiding  him. 

"Thank  you!  May  you  never  know  what  it  is 
to  be  blind ! "  said  Mills,  in  his  professional 
tone. 


THE    TELEGRAPH  BOY.  1G3 

"  If  I  ain,  I  hope  I  can  see  as  well  as  you," 
thought  Frank.  "  What  a  precious  old  humbug 
he  is,  and  how  I  pity  that  poor  boy !  If  I  had 
a  chance  I  would  give  him  something  to  save 
him  from  starvation." 

Frank  walked  on,  quite  elated  at  the  change  in 
his  circumstances  which  allowed  him  to  give  money 
in  charity  to  the  person  who  had  once  been  his 
employer.  He  would  have  given  it  more  cheer- 
fully if  in  his  estimation  the  man  had  been  more 
worthy. 

Frank's  errand  took  him  up  Broadway.  He 
had  two  or  three  stops  to  make,  which  made  it 
inconvenient  for  him  to  ride.  A  little  way  in 
front  of  him  he  saw  a  boy  of  fourteen,  whom  he 
recognized  as  an  errand-boy,  and  a  former  fellow- 
lodger  at  the  Newsboy's  Lodging-House.  He  was 
about  to  hurry  forward  and  join  John  Riley,  —  for 
this  was  the  bo3''s  name,  —  when  his  attention  was 
attracted,  and  his  suspicions  aroused,  by  a  man 
who  accosted  Jchn.  .  He  was  a  man  of  about 
thirty,  rather  showily  dressed,  with  a  gold  chain 
dangling  from  his  vest. 


164  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Johnny,"  he  said,  addressing  the  errand-boy 
' '  do  you   want   to   earn   ten   cents  ? " 

"  I  should  like  to,"  answered  the  boy,  "  but  I 
am  going  on  an  errand,  and  can't  spare  the 
time." 

"  It  won't  take  five  minutes,"  said  the  young 
man.  "It  is  only  to  take  this  note  up  to  Mr. 
Conant's  room,  on  the  fourth  floor  of  this 
building." 

They  wrere  standing  in  front  of  a  high  build- 
ing occupied   as   offices. 

The   boy  hesitated. 

"Is   there   an    answer?"    he   asked. 

"No;  j'ou  can  come  right  down  as  soon  as 
the  letter  is  delivered." 

"  I  suppose  I  could  spare  the  time  for  that," 
said  John  Eiley. 

"Of  course  you  can.  It  won't  take  you  two 
minutes.  Here  is  the  ten  cents.  I'll  hold  yoxxx 
bundle   for  you   while   you    run    up." 

"All  right!"  said  the  errand-boy,  and,  suspect- 
ng  nothing,  he  surrendered  his  parcel,  and  taking 
the  note  and  the  dime,  ran    upstairs. 


THE    TELEGRAPH  BOT.  165 

No  sooner  was  he  out  of  sight  than  the  j'oung 
man  began  to  walk  off  rapidly  with  the  bundle. 
It  was  an  old  trick,  that  has  been  many  times 
played  upon  unsuspecting  bo}Ts,  and  will  continue 
to  be  played  as  long  as  there  are  knavish  ad- 
venturers who  prefer  dishonest  methods  of  getting 
a  living  to  honest  industry. 

In  this  case,  however,  the  rogue  was  destined 
to  disappointment.  It  may  be  stated  that  he  had 
been  present  in  the  dry-goods  store  from  which 
the  parcel  came,  and,  knowing  that  the  contents 
were   valuable,   had   followed   the  boy. 

No  sooner  did  Frank  understand  the  fellow's 
purpose  than  hes  pursued  him,  and  seized  him  by 
the   arm. 

"What  do  you  want  of  me?"  demanded  the 
rogue,  roughly.  "I  am  in  a  hurry  and  can't  be 
detained." 

"  I  want  you  to  give  me  that  bundle  which  you 
are  trying   to  steal   from   my   friend,   John    Riley." 

The  rogue's  countenance  changed. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded,  to  gain 
time. 


166  THE    TELEGRAPH   B07. 

"  I  mean  that  I  heard  your  conversation  with 
him,  and  I  know  your  game.  Come  back,  or  I 
will  call  a  policeman." 

The  young  man  was  sharp  enough  to  see  that 
he   must   give   up  his   purpose. 

"There,  take  the  bundle,"  he  said,  tossing  it 
into  Frank's  arms.  "  I  was  only  going  for  a 
cigar ;    I   should   have   brought   it   back." 

"When  John  Riley  came  downstairs,  with  the 
letter  in  his  hand,  —  for  he  had  been  unable  to 
find  any  man  named  Conant  in  the  building,  — he 
found   Frank   waiting   with   the   parcel. 

"  Holloa,  Frank !  Where's  that  man  that"  sent 
me   upstairs?     I   can't   find   Mr.    Conant." 

"  Of  course  you  can't.  There's  no  such  man 
in  the  building.  That  man  was  a  thief;  but  for 
me   he   would   have   carried   off  your   bundle." 

"What  a  fool  I  was!"  said  the  errand-boy.  "I 
won't  let  myself  be  fooled  again." 

"  Don't  give  up  a  bundle  to  a  stranger  again," 
said  Frank.  "  I'm  only  a  country  boy,  but  I 
don't  allow  myself  to  be  swindled  as  easily  as 
you." 


THE    TELEGRAPH  BOY.  167 

"I  wish  that  chap  would  come  here  again," 
said  Johnny,  indignantly.  "But  I'v&  come  out 
best,  after  all,"  he  added,  brightening  up.  "  I've 
made  ten  cents  out  of  him." 


168  THE    TELEGRAPH  BOY. 


CHAPTER  XVm. 

A  RICH   WOMAN'S   SORROW. 

One  day  Frank  was  summoned  to  a  handsome 
residence   on   Madison   avenue. 

"  Sit  down  in  the  parlor,"  said  the  servant, 
"  and  I  will  call  Mrs.  Graham." 

As  Frank  looked  around  him,  and  noted  the 
evidences  of  wealth  in  the  elegant  furniture  and 
rich  ornaments  profuseby  scattered  about,  he  thought, 
"How  rich  Mrs.  Graham  must  be!  I  suppose  she 
is  very  happy.  I  should  be  if  I  could  buy  every- 
thing I  wanted." 

It  was  a  boy's  thought,  and  betrayed  our  hero's 
inexperience.  Even  unlimited  means  are  not  sure  to 
produce  happiness,  nor  do  handsome  surroundings 
prove  wealth. 

Five  minutes  later  an  elderly  lady  entered  the 
room.  She  was  richly  dressed,  but  her  face  wore 
a   look   of  care   and   sorrow. 


TIIE    TELEGRAPH  BOY.  169 

As  she  entered,  Frank  rose  with  instinctive 
politeness,  and   bowed. 

"You  are  the  telegraph  boy,"  said  the  lady, 
inquiringly. 

"Yes,  ma'am." 

Mrs.  Graham  looked  at  him  earnestly,  as  if  to 
read  his  character. 

"I  have  sent  for  you,"  she  said,  at  length,  "to 
help  me  in  a  matter  of  some  delicacy,  and  shall 
expect  }ou  not  to  speak  of  it,  even  to  your 
employers." 

"  They  never  question  me,"  said  Frank,  promptly. 
"  You  may  rely  upon  my  secrecy." 

Frank's  statement  was  correct.  The  business 
entrusted  to  telegraph  messengers  is  understood  to 
be  of  a  confidential  nature,  and  they  are  instructed 
to  guard  the  secrets  of  those  who  make  use  of 
their  services.    ■ 

"  I  find  it  necessary  to  raise  some  money," 
continued  the  lady,  apparently  satisfied,  "and  am 
not  at  liberty,  for  special  reasons,  to  call  upon 
m}T  husband  for  it.  I  have  a  diamond  ring  of 
considerable    value,   which   I    should    like   to    have 


1 70  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

you  carry,  either  to  a  jeweller  or  a  pawnbroker, 
and   secure   what   advance   you   can   upon   it." 

"  And  I  believed  she  had  plenty  of  money," 
thought   Frank,   wondering. 

"  I  will  do  the  best  I  can  for  you,  madam," 
said  our  hero. 

Mrs.  Graham  drew  from  her  pocket  a  small 
box,  containing  a  diamond  ring,  which  sparkled 
brilliantly   in   the   sunshine. 

"  It   is   beautiful,"   said   Frank,   admiringly. 

"Yes,  it  cost  originally  eight  hundred  dollars," 
said  the  lady. 

"  Eight  hundred  dollars ! "  echoed  Frank,  in 
wonder.  He  had  heard  of  diamond  rings,  and 
knew  they  were  valuable,  but  had  no  idea  they 
were   so   valuable   as   that. 

"How  much  do  you  expect  to  get  on  it?"  he 
asked. 

"  Nothing  near  its  value,  of  course,  nor  is  that 
necessary.  Two  hundred  dollars  will  be  as  much 
as  I  care  to  use,  and  at  that  rate  I  shall  be 
able  the  sooner  to  redeem  it.  I  believe  I  will 
tell  you  why   I    want   the   money." 


THE    TELEGRAPH   BOY.  171 

"  Not  unless   you   think   it  best,"    said   Frank. 

"It    is    best,    for    I    shall    again    require    your 
services   in   disposing   of  the   rnone}T." 

The    lady    sat    down   on   the   sofa   beside   Frank, 
and   told   him   the   story   which   follows :  — 

"  I  have  two  children,"  she  said,  "  a  daughter 
and  a  son.  The  son  has  recently  graduated  from 
college,  and  is  now  travelling  in  Europe.  My 
daughter  is  now  twenty-six  years  of  age.  She 
was  beautiful,  and  our  social  position  was  such 
that  my  husband,  who  is  a  proud  man,  confidently 
anticipated  that  she  would  make  a  brilliant  match. 
But  at  the  age  of  nineteen  Ellen  fell  in  love 
with  a  clerk  in  my  husband's  employ.  He  was 
a  young  man  of  good  appearance  and  character, 
and  nothing  could  be  said  against  him  except 
that  he  was  poor.  This,  however,  was  more  than 
enough  in  Mr.  Graham's  eyes.  When  Lawrence 
Brent  asked  for  the  hand  of  our  daughter,  my 
husband  drove  him  from  the  house  with  insult, 
and  immediately  discharged  him  from  his  employ 
Ellen  was  high-spirited,  and  resented  this  treat- 
ment of    the   man   she    loved.      He   soon    obtained 


172  THE    TKLEGRAPH   BOY. 

a  place  quite  as  good  as  the  one  he  had  lost, 
and  one  day  Ellen  left  the  house  and  married 
him.  She  wrote  to  us,  excusing  her  action,  and 
I  would  gladly  have  forgiven  her  ;  but  her  father 
was  obdurate.  He  forbade  my  mentioning  her 
name  to  him,  and  from  that  da}r  to  this  he  has 
never  referred   to   her. 

"I  am  now  coming  to  the  business  in  which 
3rou  aje  to  help  me.  For  }rears  m}r  son-in-law 
was  able  to  support  his  wife  comfortably,  and 
also  the  two  children  which  in  time  came  to 
them.  But,  a  year  since,  he  became  sick,  and 
his  sickness  lasted  till  he  had  spent  all  his  savings. 
Now  he  and  his  poor  family  are  living  in  wretched 
lodgings,  and  are  in  need  of  the  common  neces- 
saries of  life.  It  is  for  them  I  intend  the  monej 
which   I   can   secure   upon   this   ring." 

Frank  could  not  listen  without  having  his  sym- 
pathies aroused. 

"  I  oshall  be  still  more  glad  to  help  you,"  he 
said,  "  now  that  I  know  how  the  money  is  to 
be  used." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  lad}\     "You   are  a  good 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  173 

bo}',  and  I  see  that  I  can  trust  you  implic- 
itly." 

She  handed  Frank  the  box,  enjoining  upon  him 
to   be   careful   not   to   lose   it. 

"It  is  so  small  that  it  might  easily  slip  from 
your  pocket,"   she   said. 

"  I  shall  take  the  best  care  of  it,"  said  Frank. 
"Where  would  you  advise  me  to  go  first?" 

"  I  hardly  know.  If  I  wished  to  sell  it  I 
would  carry  it  to  Tiffany ;  but  it  was  purchased 
there,  and  it  might  in  that  case  come  to  my 
husband's  ears.  There  is  a  pawnbroker,  named 
Simpson,  who,  I  hear,  is  one  of  the  best  of  his 
class.     You   may   go   there   first." 

"How  much  shall  I  say  you  want  on  it?" 
asked   Frank. 

"  Don't  mention  my  name  at  all,"  said  the 
lady,  hastily. 

I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  give  some  name," 
said  Frank,  "in  order  that  the  ticket  may  be 
made   out." 

' '  What  is  your   own   name  ?  " 

"  Frank   Kavanagh." 


174  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Have  you   a   mother   living?" 

"No,"   said   Frank,   gravely. 

"Then  let  the  ticket  be  made  out  in  your 
name." 

"  If  you   wish   it." 

"Shall  I  bring  the  money  to  you,  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham?" 

"No;  my  husband  might  be  at  home,  and  it 
would  arouse  his  suspicions.  At  twelve  o'clock 
I  will  meet  you  at  Madison  Park,  at  the  corner 
opposite  the  Union  League  Club  House.  You  can 
then  report  to  me  your  success." 

"Very   well,"    said   Frank. 

He  went  at  once  to  the  pawnbroker  mentioned 
by  Mrs.  Graham,  But  for  his  uniform  he  would 
have  been  questioned  closely  as  to  how  he  came 
by  the  ring ;  but  telegraph  boys  are  so  often 
employed  on  similar  errands  that  the  pawnbroker 
showed  no  surprise.  After  a  careful  examination 
he  agreed  to  advance  two  hundred  dollars,  and 
gave  Frank  the  money  and  the  ticket.  When 
Frank  gave  his  own  name,  he  said,  "  That  a 
your   name,    is   it   not?" 


THE    TELEGRAPH     BOY.  175 

"Yes,   sir." 

"But  the   ring  does   not  belong  to  you?" 

"  No ;  it  belongs  to  a  lady  who  does  not  wish 
her   name   known." 

"It  is   all  the   same   to   us." 

"  That  was  easily  done,"  thought  Frank.  "Now 
I  must  go   and   meet   Mrs.    Graham." 

"Have  you  got  the  money?"  asked  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham,   anxiously,    as   Frank    made    his    appearance 

"Yes,"   replied   Frank. 

"How   much?" 

"  The   amount  you   asked   for." 

' '  That  is  well.  Now  I  shall  be  able  to  relieve 
my  poor  daughter.  I  cannot  bear  to  think  of 
her  and  her  poor  children  suffering  for  the  lack 
of  bread,  while  I  am  living  in  luxury.  I  wish 
Mr.    Graham   was   not   so   unforgiving." 

"Will  you  take  the  money  now?"    asked  Frank. 

"I  wish  you  to  take  fifty  dollars  to  my 
daughter." 

"  I  will  do  so  with  pleasure.  What  is  her 
address  ?  " 

Mrs.   Graham   drew   out    a    card,   on   which   she 


176  THE     TELEGRAPH   BOY. 

had  pencilled  her  daughter's  address.  It  proved 
to  be  a  tenement-house  on  the  east  side  of  the 
city,   not  far   from   Fourteenth   street. 

"  I  wish  I  could  go  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham, sadly ;  "  but  I  do  not  dare  to  do  so  at 
present.  Give  Ellen  this  money,  with  my  best 
love ;  and  say  to  her  that  a  month  hence  I  will 
again  send  her  the  same  sum.  Tell  her  to  keep 
up  good  courage.     Brighter  days  may  be  in  store." 

' '  I  will  be  sure  to  remember,"  said  Frank,  in 
a  tone   of  sympathy. 

The  errand  was  to  his  taste ;  for  he  was  about 
to  carry  help  and  comfort  to  those  who  needed 
ix>tk. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  177 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

A   MESSENGER   OP    GOOD     TIDINGS. 

There  stands  a  large  tenement-house  on  East 
Fourteenth  street,  five  stories  in  height,  and  with 
several  entrances.  Scores  of  barefooted  and 
scantily  attired  children  play  in  the  halls  or  on 
the  sidewalk  in  front,  and  the  great  building  is 
a  human  hive,  holding  scores  of  families.  Some 
of  them,  unaccustomed  to  live  better,  are  toler- 
ably content  with  their  squalid  and  contracted 
accommodations ;  but  a  few,  reduced  by  gradual 
steps  from  respectability  and  comfort,  find  their 
positions  very  hard  to  bear. 

On  the  third  floor  three  small  rooms  were  oc- 
cupied by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  Morgan,  and 
their  two  children.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Mrs. 
Graham,  and  had  been  reared  in  affluence.  How 
she  had  incurred  her  father's  displeasure  has  al- 
ready been   told.      He  had  been  taken  sick  some 


178  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

months  before,  his  little  stock  of  money  had 
melted  away,  and  now  he  was  unable  even  to 
pay  the  small  expenses  of  life  in  a  tenement- 
house. 

Just  before  Frank  made  his  appearance  there 
was   sadness   in   the   little   houshold. 

"How  much  money  is  there  left,  Ellen?"  asked 
Robert  Morgan. 

"  Seventy-five  cents,"  she  answered,  in  a  tone 
which  she  tried  to  make  cheerful. 

"  And  our  week's  rent  will  become  due  to-mor- 
row." 

"I  may  hear  from  mother,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Morgan. 

"  If  you  don't,  I  don't  know  what  will  become 
of  us  all.  We  shall  be  thrust  into  the  street. 
Even  this  squalid  home  will   be  taken  from  us." 

"  Don't  get   discouraged,    Robert." 

"  Isn't  there  enough  to  make  me  despondent, 
Ellen?  I  can  see  now  that  I  did  very  wrong  to 
marry  you." 

"Do  you  regret  our  marriage,  then,  Robert?" 
asked  his  wife. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  179 

"  Only  because  it  has  brought  you  poverty  and 
discomfort." 

"  I  have   not  yet   regretted  it." 

"How  different  a  position  you  would  have  oc- 
cupied if  I  had  not  dragged  you  down !  You 
would  still  be  living  in  luxury." 

"  I  should  not  have  you  and  these  dear 
children." 

"  And  will  they  compensate  you  for  what  has 
come  upon  you?" 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  emphatically. 

"You  have  more  philosophy  than  I  have, 
Ellen." 

"More  trust,  perhaps.  Do  you  know,  Robert, 
I  think  we  are  on  the  eve  of  good  fortune?" 

"  I   hope   so,   but  I   see   no   prospects   of  it." 

Just  then   there   was   a   knock   at   the  door. 

Thinking  that  it  might  be  some  humble  neigh- 
bor, on  a  borrowing  expedition,  Mrs.  Morgan 
opened  the  door.  Before  her  stood  our  hero  in 
his   uniform. 

"Is  this  Mrs.  Robert  Morgan?"  asked  Frank. 

"  Yes,"   she  answered. 


180  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  I   come   from  your   mother." 

"  From  my  mother?  Robert,  do  you  hear  that?' 
said  the  poor  woman,  in  a  voice  of  gladness. 
"  Here  is  a  messenger  from  my  mother.  Didn't 
I  tell  you   there  was   good  luck  in  store  for  us  ? " 

Mr.  Morgan  did  not  answer.  He  waited  anx- 
iously to  hear  what  Frank  had  to  communicate. 

"  Your  mother  sends  you  her  love,  and  fifty 
dollars,"  continued  Frank.  "She  hopes  to  call 
soon   herself." 

"Fifty  dollars!"  exclaimed  Ellen  Morgan,  in 
delight.  "It  is  a  fortune." 

"Thank  Heaven!"  ejaculated  her  husband,  in 
great  relief. 

"  A  month  hence  you  may  expect  a  similar 
sum,"  said  Frank.  "  I  suppose  T  shall  bring  it. 
Shall   I   find   you   here  ?  " 

Ellen   Morgan    looked    at   her   husband. 

"No,"  said  he.  "Let  us  get  out  of  this 
neighborhood  as  soon  as  possible.  Can't  you  find 
a   respectable   place  to-day  ?  " 

"Yes"  said  his  wife.  "I  shall  be  glad  to 
move.     T  saw  some  neat  rooms  on   West  Twentieth 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  181 

street  on  Monday.  The}'  will  cost  us  but  little 
more,  and  will  suit  us  better." 

"I  will  send  my  mother  my  new  address," 
she  said  to  Frank. 

"■Then  you  may  send  it  under  cover  to  me, 
and  I  will  see  that  she  gets  it  privately,"  sail 
Frank,  who  had  received  instructions  to  that  effect 
from  Mrs.  Graham. 

When  Frank  had  left  the  room  the  little  house- 
hold seemed  quite  transformed.  Hope  had  entered, 
and  all  looked  more  cheerful. 

"We  are  provided 'for,  for  two  months,  Rob- 
ert," said  his  wife.  "  Is  not  that  a  piece  of  good 
luck?" 

"Yes,  indeed  it  is,"  he  answered  heartily. 
"Before  that  time  I  can  get  to  work  again,  and 
with  health  and  employment  I  shall  not  need 
to   ask   favors  of  any  one." 

"I  wish  father  were  as  forgiving  as  mother," 
said  Ellen  Morgan. 

"  Your  father  is  a  hard  man.  He  will  never 
forgive  you  for  marrying  a  poor  man.  He  would 
punish  you  by  starvation." 


182  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"He  is  very  proud,"  said  Mrs.  Morgan.  "1 
was  an  only  daughter,  you  know,  and  he  had 
set  his  heart  upon  my  making  a  brilliant  mar- 
riage." 

"  As  you  might  have  done." 

"As  I  did  not  care  to  do.  I  preferred  to 
make  a  happy  marriage  with  the  man  of  my 
choice." 

"  You   are   a  good   wife,   Ellen." 

"  I   hope  you   will   always  find   me   so,  Robert." 

"I  should  have  sunk  utterly  if  you  had  been 
like   some   women." 

In  the  afternoon  Mrs.  Morgan  went  out,  taking 
one  of  her  children  with  her.  She  went  to  the 
rooms  on  West  Twentieth  street,  and,  finding 
them  still  vacant,  secured  them,  paying  a  month's 
rent  in  advance,  as  her  mother's  timely  gift 
enabled  her  to  do.  Before  the  next  evening  they 
were  installed  in  their  new  home,  and  Mrs.  Mor- 
gan sent  a  note  to  her  mother,  under  cover  to 
Frank,    apprising  her   of  the   removal. 

Two  daj's  later  Frank  received  a  summons  to 
the  house  on  Madison  avenue.     He   obeyed,  think- 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  183 

ing  he  should  probably  be  sent  with  some  mes- 
sage  to  Mrs.    Morgan. 

He  found  Mrs.  Graham  in  a  state  of  nervous 
excitement. 

"My  husband  has  been  stricken  with  paralysis," 
she  said.  "It  is  terribly  sudden.  He  went  out 
yesterday,  apparently  in  vigorous  health.  He  was 
brought  home  pale  and  helpless." 

"Can  I  do  anything  for  him  or  you?"  asked 
Frank. 

"  Yes ;  you  can  go  at  once  to  my  daughter, 
and   summon   her  to   her  father's   bedside." 

Frank  was  surprised,  remembering  how  obdu- 
rate Mrs.  Graham  had  described  her  husband  to 
be. 

"You  look  surprised,"  she  said;  "but  sickness 
often  produces  a  great  change  in  us.  My  hus- 
band's pride  has  given  way.  His  affection  has 
returned ;  and  it  is  at  his  request  that  I  send 
for   Ellen." 

Frank  had  come  to  feel  a  personal  interest  in 
the  family,  and  he  gladly  set  out  for  the  modest 
home   in   West  Twentieth   street.     He   felt    that   it 


184  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

was    pleasant    to    be    a    messenger    of    reconcilia 
tion. 

Mis.  Morgan  recognized  him  at  once,  and  re- 
ceived  him   cordially. 

"Do  you   come   from   my    mother?"    she   asked. 

"  Yes.     She  wishes  you  to  come  home  at  once. 

"But— my   father." 

"  Your  father  is  very  sick ;  and  he  joins  in 
the   request." 

"It  has  come  at  last, — the  time  I  have  looked 
forward  to  for  so  long,"  said  Ellen  Morgan,  clasp- 
ing her  hands.  "  Robert,  do  you  feel  equal  to 
looking   after   the   children   while   I   am   gone?" 

"  Yes,  Ellen.  Go  at  once.  God  grant  that  your 
father's  heart  ma}r  be  softened,  for  your  sake. 
For  myself  I  am  content  to  live  in  poverty ;  but 
I   don't   like   to   see  you   suffer." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  father?  Did  my 
mother   tell  you?" 

Frank  explained,  and  thus  gave  her  fresh  cause 
for   anxiety. 

On  reaching  her  father's  chamber  she  was 
shocked  by  his  changed  appearance  ;  but  her  heart 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  185 

was  gladdened  by  the  wan  single  that  lighted  up 
his  face,  assuring  her  that  she  was  welcome 
From  the  doctor  she  received  the  assurance  that 
her  father  was  in  no  immediate  danger.  Indeed, 
he  expressed  a  confident  hope  that  Mr.  Graham 
would  rally  from  his  present  attack,  and  be  able 
to  go  about  his  business  again,  though  caution 
would  be  required  against  undue  excitement  or 
fatigue. 

The  doctor's  prediction  was  verified.  Mr.  Gra- 
ham recovered ;  but  his  old  pride  and  obduracy 
did  not  come  back.  He  became  reconciled  to  his 
son-in-law,  and  provided  him  a  well-paid  position 
in  his  own  mercantile  establishment,  and  provided 
rooms  in  the  Madison-avenue  mansion  for  the  little 
famil}7  whom  Frank  had  first  visited  in  the  squalid 
tenement-house  in  Fourteenth  street,  and  the  glad 
voices  of  children  made  the  house  no  longer  lonely. 

"You  must  call  and  see  us  often,"  said  Ellen 
Morgan  to  our  hero.  "I  shall  always  remember 
you  as  the  messenger  who  brought  us  good  tidings 
a'  the  darkest  hour  in  our  fortunes.  We  shall 
always    welcome   you    as    a   friend." 


186  THE     TELKGRAVIl    BOY. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A.   NEW   JOB,    AND   A    LETTER   FROM   HOME. 

One  morning  an  elderly  gentleman  entered  the 
office  in  which  Frank  was  employed,  and  sought 
an   interview  with   the   superintendent. 

"I  want  a  smart  boy  for  detective  work,"  he 
said.     "Have   you   one   you   can  recommend?" 

The  superintendent,  cast  his  eyes  over  the  line 
of  boys,  and  called  Frank.  Our  hero's  recogni- 
tion of  the  disguised  counterfeiter  by  his  ring  had 
given  him  a  reputation  for  shrewdness. 

"  I  think  this  boy  will  suit  3Tou,"  he  said.  "  Do 
you  wish  him  to  go  with  3'ou  now?" 

"  Yes ;    I   may    want   him   a   week. 

"Very   well." 

Frank  accompanied  the  gentleman  into  the  street 

"Have  you  no  other  clothes  except  this  uni- 
form?"   asked   Mr.    Hartley. 

"Yes,    sir." 


THE     TELEGRAPH  BOY.  187 

"Then  go  and  put  them  on.  Then  report  to 
me   at  No.   —  Broadway." 

"All   right,  sir." 

"  It  is  fortunate  I  have  a  good  suit,"  thought 
Frank. 

He  was  not  long  in  exchanging  his  uniform  for 
the  neat  suit  given  him  by  Mr.  Bo  wen.  Thus 
attired,  he  presented  himself  in  Mr.  Hartley's 
counting-room.  The  merchant  surveyed  him  with 
approval. 

"You  will  enter  my  service  as  errand-boy," 
he  said.  "You  will  be  sent  to  the  post-office, 
the  bank,  and  on  similar  errands,  in  order  not  to 
excite  suspicion  of  the  real  object  of  your  pres- 
ence. Keep  your  eyes  open,  and  I  will  take  an 
opportunity  of  explaining  to  }*ou  later  what  T 
wish  you   to   do." 

Frank  bowed. 

"  Mr.  Haynes,"  said  the  merchant,  calling  a 
thin,  sallow  young  man,  "I  have  engaged  this  boy 
as  an  errand-boy.  Has  any  one  been  to  the 
post-office   this   morning?" 

"No,    sir." 


188  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Then   he   will   go." 

Elayues  regarded   Frank    with   disfavor. 

"  I  have  a  nephew  who  would  have  liked  the 
position,"   he   said. 

"Too   late   now,"    said   the   merchant,    curtly. 

"  What  is  }rour  name,  boy? "  asked  Hajmes,  coldly. 

"Frank   Kavauagh." 

"How  did  Mr.  Hartley  happen  to  engage  you?" 
asked  the  subordinate. 

"  A  gentleman  recommended  me,"  Frank  an- 
swered. 

"  I  had  already  mentioned  my  nephew  to  him. 
I  am  surprised  he  said  nothing  to  me  about 
engaging   a   boy." 

Frank  said  nothing,  feeling  no  particular  inter- 
est in  the  matter.  As  he  was  onty  filling  tem- 
porarily the  position  of  errand  boy,  it  made  little 
difference  to  him  whether  he  was  acceptable  to 
Mr.    Haynes   or   not. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  Mr.  Hartley  handed 
Frank  a  card,  containing  the  street  and  number 
of  his  residence,  with  a  pencilled  invitation  to  call 
that   evening. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  182 

Of  course   Frank   did   so. 

Seated  alone  with  the  merchant  in  his  back 
parlor,  the  latter  said,  "  I  have  invited  you  here 
because  I  could  not  speak  with  you  freely  at  the 
store.     How   do   you   like   Mr.    Hayncs?" 

Frank  was  surprised  at  the  abruptness  of  the 
question. 

"I   don't  like   him,"   he   answered,  candidly. 

"Why   not?" 

1 '  There  is  no  good  reason  that  I  know  of," 
said  Frank;  "but  I  think  his  manner  is  disa- 
greeable." 

"  Our  instincts  are  often  to  be  trusted,"  said 
the  merchant,  thoughtfulby.  "  I  confess  that  I 
myself  don't  like  Haynes,  nor  do  I  feel  implicit 
confidence  in  him,  though  he  has  been  eight  years 
in  the  service  of  our  house.  He  is  outwardly 
very  circumspect,  and  apparently  very  faithful,  but 
there  is  something  in  his  eye  which  I   don't  like." 

Frank  had  noticed  this,  but  Mr.  Hartley's  re- 
mark called  fresh  attention  to  its  furtive,  crafty 
expression. 

Frank's   curiosity  was  aroused,  naturally  enough. 


190  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

He  wondered  what  Mr.  Haynes  had  to  do  with 
his  mission.  He  did  not  have  long  to  wait  for 
information. 

"  I  will  come  to  the  point,"  said  Mr.  Hartley, 
after  a  pause.  "  I  am  an  importing  merchant, 
and  deal,  among  other  articles,  in  silks.  During 
the  last  year  I  have  discovered  that  some  one  is 
systematically  robbing  me,  and  that  parts  of  my 
stock  have  been  spirited  away.  The  loss  I  have 
sustained  is  already  considerable,  and  unless  the 
leakage  is  put  a  stop  to,  I  may  as  well  give  up 
business.  You  can  now  guess  why  I  have  en- 
gaged you.  No  one  will  suspect  an  errand  boy 
of  being  a  detective,  while  a  man  would  very 
probably  excite  distrust,  and  put  the  rogue  on  his 
guard." 

Frank  listened  attentively  to  his  employer. 

"  Do  you  suspect  any  one  in  particular,  Mr. 
Hartley?"  he  asked. 

"  It  must  be  some  one  in  my  employ,"  he 
said.  "  The  man  who,  more  than  any  other,  has 
facilities  for  robbing  me  is  the  man  of  whom  I 
have  spoken  to  you." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  191 

"Mr.    Haynes?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Haynes.  He  holds  an  important 
position,  and  enjoys  special  privileges.  On  the 
other  hand,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  he  lives  in  a 
sober,  inexpensive  wa}T,  quite  within  his  salary, 
which  is  liberal.  He  is  prominently  connected 
with  an  up-town  church,  and  it  seems  very  im- 
probable that  he  would  be  guilty  of  robbery, 
or  breach  of  trust ;  yet  there  have  been  such 
cases  before.  At  any  rate,  I  cannot  wholly  di- 
vest myself  of    suspicion." 

"What   do  you  wish   me  to  do?"    asked  Frank 

"  To  watch  Mr.  Haynes  carefully,  both  in  and 
out  of  the  store,  to  ascertain  whether  he  has  any 
unexplained  expenses,  or  any  questionable  com- 
panions. I  want  to  know  how  he  spends  his  time 
out  of  the  office.  It  may  be  that  the  result  of 
my  investigation  will  be  to  his  credit.  It  may 
be  that  he  is  aii  that  he  seems, —  a  reputable 
member  of  the  church  and  of  society,  with  nothing 
against  him  but  an  unpleasant  manner.  Should 
this  be  the  case,  I  shall  be  glad  to  correct  my 
suspicions,    and   give  him   back   my  confidence.     In 


192  THE    TELEGRAPH   BOY. 

that  case,  we  must  look  elsewhere  for  the  rogue 
who  is  robbing   me." 

"  Have  you  any  particular  instructions  to  give 
me?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  No,  only  to  follow  Haynes,  and  find  out  all 
you  can  about  him.  Use  great  care  in  doing  it, 
not  to  arouse  his  or  any  one  else's  suspicion.  I  will 
find  an  opportunity  for  you  to  make  your  reports." 

"Very   well,   sir." 

When  Frank  got  home,  he  found  a  letter 
awaiting  him  from  his  country  home.  It  was  in 
answer  to  one  which  he  had  written  to  his  uncle, 
Deacon  Pelatiah  Kavanagh,  in  reference  to  a  trunk 
which   had  belonged   to  his   father. 

This   is   the   letter:  — 

My  dear  Nephew,  —  I  am  glad  to  learn  that  you  are 
making  a  living  in  the  city.  It  is  much  better  that  you 
should  earn  your  own  living  than  to  be  a  burden  upon 
me,  though  of  course  I  would  not  see  you  suffer.  But  a 
man's  duty  is  to  his  own  household,  and  my  income  from 
the  farm  is  very  small,  and  Hannah  and  I  agreed  that 
we  had  little  to   spare  for  others. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    SOY.  103 

There  is  ao  old  trunk,  belonging  to  your  deceased 
father,  in  the  attic.  It  contains  some  old  clothes,  which 
may  be  made  over  for  you,  and  so  save  you  expense. 
I  would  use  them  myself,  and  allow  you  for  them,  but 
your  father  was  a  much  smaller  man  than  I,  and  his 
clothes  would  not  fit  me.  I  will  send  the  trunk  by  express 
to  the  address  which  you  gave  me.  Of  course  I  shall 
expect  you  to  pay  the  express,  as  I  have  no  interest  in 
it,   or   its    contents. 

Your  cousin  Jonathan  has  left  school,  and  is  working 
on  the  farm.  I  feel  so  glad  that  he  has  no  ex- 
travagant tastes,  but  inherits  the  careful  and  economica1 
habits  of  his  mother  and  myself.  I  am  sure  he  will  never 
waste  or  squander  the  little  property  which  I  hope  tc 
leave   him. 

"  I  don't  believe  he  will,"  thought  Frank,  "  for 
he  is  about  as  mean  as  his  mother,  and  that  is 
saying  a  good  deal." 

Your  aunt  and  I  hope  that  you  will  steer  clear  of  the 
temptations  of  the  city.  Do  not  seek  after  vain  amuse- 
ments, but  live  a  sober  life,  never  spending  a  cent  un 
necessarily,  and  you  will  in  time  become  a  prosperous 
man.     I   would  invite   you   to   come   and  stop  with   us  over 


194  THE     TELEGRAPH    EOT. 

Sunday,  but  for  the  railroad  fare,  which  is  high.  It  wiL 
be  better  to  save  your  money,  and  put  off  the  visit  till 
Jol    can  afford  it. 

Your  uncle, 

Pelatiah  Kavanagh. 

Reading  this  letter,  it  would  hardly  be  sup- 
posed that  the  writer  owned  ten  thousand  dollars 
in  stocks,  bonds,  and  mortgages,  over  and  above 
an  excellent  farm.  Such,  however,  was  the 
worldly  position  of  the  man  who  sent  Frank  to 
the  city  in  quest  of  a  living,  because  he  could 
not  afford  to  provide  for  him.  With  some  men 
prudence  is  a  virtue ;  with  Deacon  Pelatiah 
Kavanagh  it  was  carried  so  far  as  to  be  a  posi 
tive  defect. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  195 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Frank's  fikst  discovert. 

So  far  as  Frank  could  observe,  Mr.  Haynes  was 
an  active,  energetic  salesman.  He  appeared  to 
understand  his  duties  thoroughly,  and  to  go  about 
them  in  a  straightforward  manner.  So  far  as  his 
personal  habits  were  concerned,  they  seemed  ir- 
reproachable. He  was  neatly  but  plainly  dressed, 
wore  no  jewehy,  and  carried  a  plain  silver  watch, 
which,  when  new,  probably  did  not  cost  over 
twenty  dollars. 

Frank  had  no  difficulty  in  ascertaining  where  he 
lived.  It  was  in  a  brick  house,  on  "Waverley 
place,  very  unpretentious  and  certainly  not  fashion- 
able. In  order  to  find  out  how  much  he  paid 
for  his  accommodations  Frank  visited  the  house 
on  pretence   of  being   in   search   of  board. 

"We  have  a  hall  bed-room  on  the  third  floor, 
at  five  dollars  a  week,  including  board,"  said  the 
landlady.     "How  would   that   suit  3rou?" 


196  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  I  may  have  a  friend  board  with  me,"  said 
Frank.  "  In  that  case  we  should  need  a  large 
room.     Have  you   any  vacant?" 

"  There  is  the  front  room  on  the  third  floor. 
We  would  let  it  to  two  gentlemen  at  eleven 
dollars   for   the   two." 

"Isn't  the  back  room  cheaper?"  inquired  our 
hero. 

"  Yes ;  but  it  is  occupied  by  a  business  gentle- 
man." 

"Can  you  tell  me  his  name?  I  may  be  ac- 
quainted with  him." 

"  His   name   is   Haynes." 

"How    much   does   he   pay?" 

"He  pays  eight  dollars  a  week,  and  has  the 
room   alone." 

"  I  suppose  his  room  is  not  likely  to  become 
vacant   soon  ? " 

"Oh,  dear,  no.  He  has  been  with  us  for  sev- 
eral years.  We  should  be  sorry  to  lose  him. 
Last  Christmas  he  gave  my  daughter  a  present 
of  a   nice   silk-dress   pattern." 

Frank   was   struck   by   this   information. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  197 

"  I  don't  believe  he  paid  aitything  for  the  silk," 
thought  he.     "  I  wish  I  eould  find  out." 

He  had  learned  all  he  cared  for,  and  left,  say- 
ing  he   might   call   again. 

"  His  expenses  seem  very  moderate  for  a  man 
in  his  position,"  thought  Frank.  "I  wonder  if 
he   makes   any   investments." 

Fortune  favored  our  hero  in  the  prosecution  of 
his  inquiry.  Keeping  Haynes  in  sight,  as  was  his 
custom,  he  observed  that  the  latter,  in  pulling  out 
a  handkerchief  from  the  breast-pocket  of  his  coat, 
had  brought  with  it  a  letter  also.  Frank,  quickly 
and  unobserved,  picked  it  up,  and  when  he  was 
alone  looked  at  the  address.  It  was  directed  to 
James  Haynes,  at  his  residence  in  Waverley  place. 
On  the  envelope  was  the  printed  address  of  a 
real-estate   broker   in   Brooklyn. 

Frank  knew  that  there  was  at  that  time  consid- 
erable speculation  in  Brooklyn  real  estate,  and  he 
examined   the   letter.     It  ran   thus :  — 

We  have  found  a  corner  lot,  with  several  lots  adjoining, 
near  Prospect  Park,  which  may  be  obtained  for  five 
thousand    dollars,    half   cash.     We    have    no    hesitation    in 


198  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

recommending  the  purchase,  heing  convinced,  from  the 
tendencies  of  the  market,  that  the  huyer  will  double  his 
money  in  a  comparatively  short  time.  If  you  are  engaged 
at  other  times,  come  over  on  Sunday  afternoon,  and  we 
will  show  you  the  property.  The  house  you  purchased 
of  us  last  year  is  worth  fully  a  thousand  dollars  more 
than  the  price  you   gave. 

' '  I  wonder  how  much  he  gave,"  said  Frank  to 
himself. 

The  letter  was  signed  "Henderson  &  Co.,  No. 
—  Fulton  street." 

Our  hero  was  elated  by  the  discovery  he  had 
made,  and  he  sought  an  interview  with  Mr. 
Hartley. 

"Have  you  discovered  anything?"  asked  the 
merchant,  noticing  the  eager  look  of  his  young 
detective. 

Without  attaching  especial  importance  to  the 
fact,  Frank  answered,  "I  have  found  out  that 
Mr.   Haynes   owns    a   bouse   in   Brooklyn." 

"Indeed!"  said  Hartley,  quickly.  "But,"  be 
continued  more  slowl}-,  "be  might  buy  one  with  the 
money   saved   from   his    salary." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  199 

"He  is  also  thinking  of  buying  some  lots  near 
Prospect  Park." 

"How  did  you  learn  this?"  asked  the  mer- 
chant,  surprised. 

"  I  would  rather  not  tell  you,"  said  Frank,  who 
was  not  quite  sure  whether  Mr.  Hartley  would 
sanction  his  examination  of  a  private  letter.  "You 
may   be   sure   that   it   is   true." 

"Very  well;  I  will  rest  contented  with  that 
assurance.  I  will  leave  }rou  to  work  in  your  own 
way.  Your  information  is  important,  for  it  seems 
to  show  that  Mr.  Haynes  has  made  investments 
be3'ond  his  ability,  if  he  were  dependent  upon  his 
savings   alone." 

"That  is  what  I  thought,"  said  Frank.  "I 
must  try  to  find  out  where  he  gets  this  extra 
inoney." 

"  If  you  do  that,  and  prove  my  suspicions  cor- 
rect, I  will  make  you  a  handsome  present,  beside? 
paying  the  company  regular  rates  for  your  ser 
vices." 

"  Thank  you,  sir.     I  will  try  to  earn  your  gifts.' 


200  the   rELuuiiAi'n  boi. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

FOLLOWING    DP    A    CLUE. 

This  is  not  a  detective  story,  and  I  shall  not, 
therefore,  detail  the  steps  by  which  our  young 
hero  succeeded  in  tracing  out  the  agency  of 
Ha3"nes  in  defrauding  the  firm  by  which  he  was 
employed.  It  required  not  one  week,  but  three, 
to  follow  out  his  clues,  and  qualify  himself  to  make 
a  clear  and  intelligible  report  to  Mr.  Hartley. 
He  had  expressly  requested  the  merchant  not  to 
require  any  partial  report,  as  it  might  interfere 
with  his  working  unobserved.  Towards  the  end 
of  the  third  week  he  asked  an  interview  with  Mr. 
Hartle}*. 

"Well,  Frank,"  said  the  merchant,  familiarly, 
"who   is   the   rogue?" 

"  Mr.    Haynes,"    answered   our   hero. 

"  You  speak  confidentl}',"  said  his  employer ; 
"  but  surmise  will  not  do.  I  want  proof,  or  I 
cannot   act." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  201 

"I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  discovered,"  said 
Frank ;    "  and  I  leave  you  to  judge   for  yourself." 

"  Have  you  a  customer  in  Hartford  named 
Davis  ? "   he   asked. 

"  Yes ;  and  a  very  good  customer.  He  is  fre 
quent  in  his  orders,  and  makes  prompt  payments 
[   wish   I   had   more   like   him." 

"  If  you  had  more  like  him  you  would  soon  be 
bankrupt,"   said  Frank,   quietly. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Mr.  Hartley,  in 
genuine  surprise.  "  How  can  a  customer  who 
buys  largely,  and  pays  promptly,  be   undesirable?" 

"  Did  you  know  that  Mr.  Davis  is  a  brother- 
in-law  of  Mr.  Haynes?" 

"  No ;  but  even  if  he  is  I  have  to  thank  Mr. 
Haynes  for  securing  me  so  excellent  a  customer." 

Hartley  spoke  confidently,  evidently  believing 
that  Frank  was  on  the  wrong  tack. 

"I  have  noticed,"  said  Frank,  "  that  when  goods 
are  packed  to  go  to  Mr.  Davis,  Mr.  Haynes  per- 
sonally superintends  the  packing,  and  employs  one 
particular  man  to  pack." 

"What   then?" 


202  TBE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  I    think   he   has   something   to   conceal." 

"  I  don't  understand  what  he  can  have  to  con- 
ceal. If  Davis  is  his  brother-in-law,  it  is  natural 
that  he  should  feel  a  special  interest  in  filling  hia 
orders." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  Mr.  Haynes  were  a 
partner  as  well  as  a  brother-in-law  of  Mr.  Davis." 

Mr.    Hartley   looked   surprised. 

"  That  may  be  true ;  though  I  don't  know  why 
you  should  conjecture  it.  Admitting  that  you  are 
right,  I  don't  know  that  I  have  any  right  to 
object.  I  should  like  it  better,  however,  if  I  were 
frankly  told  by  Mr.  Hajmes  of  this  circumstance." 

"  I  will  tell  you  what  I  think  I  have  discov- 
ered," continued  Frank.  "  The  cases  that  are 
shipped  to  Mr.  Davis  not  only  contain  the  goods 
he  has  ordered,  but  valuable  silks  that  he  has 
not   ordered,    and   does   not  propose    to    pay   for." 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hartley,  a  light 
dawning  upon  him  for  the  first  time.  "  I  was 
stupid  not  to  comprehend  your  meaning  earlier. 
What  warrant  have  you  for  suspecting  this  ?  " 

"First,  your  steady   losses   of  goods;   next,    the 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  203 

ease  with  which  Mr.  Haynes,  in  his  position  of 
trust,  could  carry  out  this  plan.  Why  should  he 
superintend  the  packing  of  Mr.  Davis's  goods, 
alone   of  all  }Tour   customers?" 

"There  is  weight  in  what  you  say,  Frank. 
You  are  certainly  an  extraordinary  boy.  You 
have  shown  so  much  shrewdness  that  I  now  ask 
your  advice.  What  steps  shall  I  take  to  ascertain 
whether  Mr.  Haynes  is  really  guilty  of  what  we 
suspect  him?" 

"There  is  an  order  now  being  filled  for  Mr. 
Davis,"  answered  Frank.  "When  the  order  is 
filled,  can't  you  open  the  case,  and  find  out 
whether   the    contents    correspond    exactly    to    the 

bill?" 

"  The  very  thing.  To  facilitate  matters  I  will 
send  Mr.  Haynes  to  Brooklyn  on  a  confidential 
errand.  Fortunately  there  is  a  matter  that  will 
give  me  a  good  excuse  for  doing  so.  Go  back 
to  your  post,  and  when  Mr.  Ha3^nes  appears  to 
be   at  liberty   send   him   to   me." 

Half  an  hour  later  Mr.  Haynes  entered  the 
counting  room   of   his   employer. 


204  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"You  sent  for  me,  sir?"  he  said,  a  little 
uneasily ;  for,  when  conscience  accuses,  the  mind 
is   always   apprehensive. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Haynes,"  said  the  merchant,  in  his 
usual  tone.  "  Have  you  any  objection  to  go  to 
Brooklyn   for   me,  on   a   confidential   errand?" 

"  None  in  the  world,  sir,"  said  Haynes,  relieved. 
"  I  shall  be  glad  to  take  the  trip  this  fine  morn- 
ing.    It  is  almost  too  pleasant  to  remain  in-doors." 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  will  give  you  your  instructions, 
and   shall   be   glad   to  have  you   go   at  once." 

It  is  not  necessary  to  our  story  that  we  should 
know  the  nature  of  the  errand  on  which  Haynes 
was  sent.  It  served  the  purpose  of  getting  him 
out  of  the  way. 

When  the  suspected  clerk  was  fairly  on  his  way 
Mr.  Hartlej'  went  to  the  packing-room,  and   looked 
about  him  till  he  discovered  the  case  addressed  to 

H.   L.   DAVIS   &  CO., 
Hartford,   Conn. 

"  Open  this  case,"  said  he   to   one   of  the  work 
men.     "  There  was  a  mistake  recently  in   sending 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  205 

some    goods    to    Davis,   and    I    wish    to    compare 
these   with   the   bill." 

"I  think  they  are  all  right,  sir,"  said  the  man 
addressed.     "Mr.   Haynes   saw  them   packed." 

"  Mr.  Haynes  will  not  be  responsible  for  any 
mistake,"  said  Mr.  Hartley.  "  I  would  rather  see 
for   myself." 

The  case  was  opened,  and  the  merchant  dis- 
covered about  two  hundred  dollars'  worth  of  silk, 
which  was   not   included   in   the  bill. 

"  Go  and  call  Mr.  Hunting,"  said  Mr.  Hartley, 
quietly. 

Mr.  Hunting  filled  one  of  the  most  important 
positions  in  the  establishment.  To  him  his  em- 
ployer explained   the   nature   of  his   discovery. 

"  Mr.  Hunting,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  you  to  see 
and  attest  the  fraud  that  has  been  attempted  upon 
me.  This  case  was  packed  under  the  special 
charge  of  Mr.  Haynes." 

*•'  Is  it  possible  that  Mr.  Haynes  knew  of  this?" 
exclaimed  his  fellow-clerk. 

"  Davis  is  his  brother-in-law,"  said  Mr.  Hartley, 
significantly. 


2UG  THE     TELEGRAPH     BOY. 

•w  Uas  Liiis  been  going  on  long,  do  you  think, 
sir?" 

"  For  several  years,  I  suspect.  Mr.  Ha}^nes 
has,    no   doubt,    found    it   very  profitable." 

"Shall  I  close  up  the  case  again,  sir?  '  asked 
the    workman. 

"  Yes,  but  it  is  not  to  go.  You  may  await 
my  further  orders." 

The  silk  was  taken  out,  and  replaced  in  the 
silk  department. 

"  So  much  has  been  saved,  at  least,"  said  the 
merchant. 

"  When  Mr.  Haynes  comes  back,"  he  said  to 
the   usher,    "  send    him    to  me." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOS.  207 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 


BROUGHT    TO      BAT. 


Mb.  Haynes  had  a  private  reason  for  accepting 
readily  the  commission  to  visit  Brooklyn.  It  oc- 
curred to  him  at  once  that  it  would  give  him  an 
excellent  chance  to.  call  on  his  real-estate  agent, 
and  confer  with  him  upon  future  investments. 
For  James  Haynes  had  the  comfortable  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  a  prosperous  man.  Month  by 
month,  and  year  by  year,  he  was  adding  largely 
to  his  gains,  and  while  he  was  still  a  young  man 
he  would  be  rich,  if  all  went  well. 

Of  course  this  meant  if  his  peculations  re- 
mained undiscovered.  "Why  should  they  not  be? 
He  plumed  himself  on  the  skill  with  which  he 
managed  to  rob  his  employer.  He  was  no  vulgar 
bungler  to  break  into  the  store,  or  enter  into  an 
alliance  with  burglars.  Not  he !  The  property  he 
took    was   carried   off  openly   before   Mr.    Hartley's 


208  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

very  eyes,  and  he  knew  nothing  of  it.  He  did 
not  even  suspect  that  he  was  being  robbed.  Thi? 
is  what  Mr.  Haynes  thought ;  but,  as  we  know, 
he  was  mistaken.  Even  now  he  was  in  a  net ; 
but  did  not  know  it. 

After  attending  to  Mr.  Hartley's  commission 
Haynes  went  to  see  his  broker.  The  conversation 
he  had  with  the  broker  was  of  a  very  encouraging 
character.  He  was  congratulated  upon  his  invest- 
ments, and  assured  that  they  would  pay  him 
handsomely. 

James  Haynes  returned  from  Brooklyn  in  a  very 
pleasant  mood. 

"A  year  or  two  more  of  life  as  a  clerk,  and 
I  will  throw  off  the  yoke,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"  I  must  be  worth  at  least  fifteen  thousand  dol- 
lars now,  apart  from  an}T  rise  in  the  value  of 
my  investments.  When  I  reach  twenty-five  thou- 
sand I  will  resign  my  position,  and  go  to  Europe. 
I  shall  than  possess  an  income  adequate  to  my 
simple  wants." 

"Is  Mr.  Hartley  in  the  counting-room?"  he 
asked,   as  he   reentered   the    store. 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  209 

"Yes,   sir,   and  he   wishes  to  see  you." 

"Of  course  he  wants  to  see  me, — to  hear  my 
report." 

The  merchant  looked  up  as  Haynes  entered 
the   counting-room. 

"So  you   are  back?"   he   said,  gravely. 

"Yes,  sir;  I  was  detained  a  little,  but  I  ful- 
filled my  commission." 

"That  is   well." 

Here  Haynes  made  his  report.  Mr.  Hartley 
listened  with  an  abstracted  air,  for  his  thoughts 
were  upon   the   defalcation  of  the  man  before  him. 

Finishing  his  statement,  James  Haynes  turned 
to  leave  the  office,  but  his  employer  called  him 
back. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Haynes,"  he  said,  gravely. 
"  I  wish  to  ask  you  one  or  two  questions." 

"  Certainly,   sir." 

"  I  believe  we  have  transactions  with  a  party 
in  Hartford,  with  the  firm-name  of  H.  L.  Davis 
&  Co.?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Haynes,  starting  and  flushing 
a  little. 


210  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Is   Mr.    Davis   a   relative    of  yours?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  wonder  where  he  heard  that?" 
llaynes  asked  himself.  "  Is  there  any  trouble? 
Is  he  behind  in  his  payments?"  inquired  the 
clerk. 

"No;  he  has  always  settled  his  bills  with 
commendable   promptness." 

"  I  insisted  on  that,"  said  Haynes,  in  a  satis- 
fied tone.  "I  didn't  want  you  to  lose  by  any 
connection  of  mine." 

"  And  you  are  quite  sure  that  I  have  lost 
nothing  by  Mr.  Davis?"  demanded  the  merchant, 
regarding  Haynes   intently. 

The  latter  changed  color. 

"How  is  that  possible,"  he  inquired,  "since 
he  has  met  his  pa3Tments  promptly  ?  " 

"  You  have  personally  seen  to  the  packing  of 
Mr.   Davis's   goods,   I   believe,   Mr.    Haynes  ? " 

"Well  —  generally,"  stammered  the  rather  dis- 
concerted  clerk. 

"At  all  events,   you   did   so  this  morning?" 

"  Ye-es." 

"  After    you    started    for    Brooklyn,   I   had  the 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  211 

case   opened,  and   found   some  patterns  of  silk  not 
included  in  the  bill." 

"  I  suppose,  there  was  a  mistake,"  said  Haynes, 
turning  pale. 

1 '  You   think   this   has   not  happened   before  ? " 

"  I   am   sure   of  it." 

"  Mr.  Haynes,"  said  his  employer,  sternly, 
"you  may  as  well  drop  the  mask  of  innocence. 
I  have  been  robbed  systematically  for  the  last 
three  years,  and  I  now  understand  how  it  was 
done.  You  and  Davis,  between  you,  have  plun- 
dered me  in  an  exceedingly  ingenious  manner.  It 
will  go  hard   with  you   before   a  jury." 

"You  won't  have  me  arrested!"  exclaimed 
Haynes,   his   pallor  indicating   his   dismay. 

"Why  should  I  not?" 

"  You   could   prove   nothing." 

"  I  will  take  my  chance  of  that.  Have  you 
nothing  more   to    say?" 

44 1  —  though  I  do  not  admit  that  your  charge 
is  correct  —  I  am  willing  to  make  over  to  you 
the  greater  part  of  my  property,  to  avoid  the 
scandal  of  a  trial." 


212  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  That  will  not  do,  Mr.  Haynes.  Were  I  to 
accept  this  upon  such  a  ground,  you  could 
rightfully  bring  against  me  a  charge  of  black- 
mail." 

"What,  then,  are  your  terms?"  asked  Haynes, 
sullenly. 

"  You  must  write  out  a  confession  of  your 
guilt,  which  I  shall  put  among  my  private  papers, 
and  not  make  public  unless  necessary,  and  in  ad- 
dition you  must  make  over  to  me  property  to  the 
amount  of  ten  thousand  dollars.  It  will  not  make 
up  my  losses,  but  I  will  accept  it  as  restitution 
in  full." 

Against  this  James  Haynes  most  strongly 
protested,  alleging  that  the  sum  demanded  was 
far  beyond  the  amount  of  his  purloinings ;  but 
finally  he  yielded,  being  privately  resolved  to 
make  his  brother-in-law  pay  one-half  of  the  for- 
feiture. 

"You  will  leave  my  service  at  the  end  of  the 
week,  Mr.  Haynes,"  said  his  employer,  "  and 
during  next  week  you  must  attend  to  the  trans- 
fer." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  213 

"How  did  he  find  out?"  said  Haynes  to  him- 
self, as  with  grave  face  he  went  about  the  duties 
of  the  place  he  was  so  soon  to  leave.  "  If  I 
could  find  out,  1  would  have  my  revenge." 


214  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


AN    OPEN    ENEMT. 


Frank  remained  with  Mr.  Hartley  till  the  guilty 
clerk  left  the  establishment.  This  was  at  the 
special  request  of  the  merchant,  who  did  not  care 
to  let  Mr.  Haynes  suspect  who  had  been  instru- 
mental  in   bringing  his   guilt   to    light. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  no  further  use  for  me, 
now,   Mr.    Hartley?"    said   the    telegraph   boy. 

"  Not  at  present,  Frank,"  said  his  employer, 
kindly. 

"  Then  I  will  report  for  duty  at  the  telegraph 
office." 

"  Wait  a  moment.  You  have  done  me  a  great 
service." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that  sir,"  answered  Frank, 
modestly. 

"  You  have  shown  uncommon  shrewdness  and 
intelligence." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  215 

Frank  looked  gratified,  and  expressed  his  thanks 
for  the  compliment. 

"I  want  to  make  you  a  present,  in  addition 
to  the  wages  which  you  receive  from  the  office," 
said   Mr.    Hartley. 

"  Thank   you,    sir." 

Mr.  Hartley  drew  from  his  desk  a  five-twenty 
government  bond,  of  one  hundred  dollars,  and 
handed  it  to  our  hero. 

"Do  you  mean  all  this  for  me?"  asked  Frank, 
quite  overwhelmed  by  the  magnitude  of  the  gift. 

"It  is  not  more  than  you  deserve.  I  might 
have  given  you  the  money  value  of  the  bond ;  but 
I  give  it  to  you  in  this  shape,  because  I  hope 
you  will  keep  it  as  an  investment.  It  will  yield 
you  six  dollars  interest  annually  in  gold.  I  hope 
the  time  will  come  when  you  will  have  more  in- 
terest in   the   same   way." 

"  I  hope  I  shall,  sir.  I  shall  feel  quite  rich 
now." 

"  You  are  richer  in  the  qualities  which  have 
won  }'ou  this  acknowledgment.  How  do  you  like 
the   telegraph   service  ?  " 


216  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"Very  well,  sir,  for  the  present.  It  is  much 
better   than   being   a   newsboy." 

"  Exactly ;  but  there  are  positions  you  would 
prefer  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir;  I  would  like  to  be  in  some  mercantile 
business,  where  I  might  work  my  way  up.  In  a 
few  years  I  shall  be  too  old  for  a  telegraph  boy, 
and   then  I   shall   be   out   of  place." 

"  I  will  relieve  your  fears  on  that  score.  In 
six  months  I  shall  make  some  changes  in  the  list 
of  employees.  When  that  time  comes  I  will  find 
a  place  for  you." 

"There  is  nothing  I  should  like  better,  sir," 
said   Frank,    his   face   flushing   with  pleasure. 

"I  am  satisfied  that  you  will  make  a  useful 
and  intelligent  clerk.  Until  I  want  you,  remain 
where  you  are.  The  discipline  of  your  present 
office  will  do  you  no  harm,  but  will  help  qualify 
you  for  usefulness  and  success  in  the  mercantile 
career." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  Now  I  have  something  to 
look  forward  to  I  shall  work  much  more  cheer- 
fullv." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOS.  217 

Frank  went  back  to  the  office,  and  resumed 
his  ordinary  duties.  One  day  he  was  riding  down 
Broadway  in  a  stage,  when  he  became  sensible 
that  he  had  attracted  the  attention  of  a  gentle- 
man sitting  opposite.  This  led  him  to  scan  the 
face  of  the  man  who  was  observing  him.  He  at 
once   recognized   Mr.    Haynes. 

The  stage  was  not  full,  and  the  latter  came 
over,  and  took  a  seat  next  to  the  telegraph 
boy. 

"Isn't  your  name  Frank  Kavanagh?"  he  asked, 
abruptly. 

"Yes,    sir." 

"  Were  you  not  for  a  short  time  in  the  employ 
of  Mr.    Hartley?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Frank,  feeling  embarrassed,  for 
he  knew  that  he  was  suspected. 

"  I  infer  from  your  uniform  that  you  have  left 
Mr.   Hartley." 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  did  you  leave  him?"  asked  Haynes, 
sharply. 

' '  Because  he   had    no    further   occasion    for   my 


218  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

services.  Why  did  you  leave  him?"  asked 
Frank,  in   turn. 

James  Haynes  colored,  and  looked  angry.  How- 
ever,  he   answered  the  question. 

"  I  have  other  business  views,"  he  said,  briefly. 

"  So  have  I." 

The  next  question  was  also  of  an  embarrassing 
character. 

"Were  you  a  telegraph  boy  before  you  entered 
Mr.    Hartley's   employ  ?  " 

"  I   was,"   answered   Frank. 

"Were   you   detailed  for   duty   there?" 

Our  hero  thought  that  he  had  answered  ques- 
tions enough  •  by  this  time,  and  signified  as  much 
to   his   questioner. 

"If  I  had  been,"  he  said,  "I  shouldn't  be 
permitted  to  inform  a   stranger." 

"  I  have  particular  reasons  for  asking  the  ques- 
tion," said  Haynes. 

"Then  you  can  ask  Mr.  Hartley,  or  the  super- 
intendent of  my  office.  Good-morning,  sir,  I  get 
out  here." 

Frank   pulled   the   strap,   and   got    out.     But    he 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  219 

was  not  rid  of  his  questioner.  Haynes  got  out  too, 
arid  walked  beside  our  hero. 

"I  believe,"  he  said,  sternly,  "that  you  were 
sent  for  to  act  as  a  spy  on  me." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  asked  the  tele- 
graph boy,  looking  him  in  the  eye. 

"  There  was  a  difficult}'  between  Mr.  Hartley  and 
nryself,  occasioned  by  a  base  and  groundless  charge, 
concocted  by  some  enemy.  I  believe  that  you  had 
something  to  do  with  this." 

"I  have  brought  no  groundless  charge  against 
any  one,"  said  Frank. 

"  Did  you  make  any  report  to  Mr.  Hartley  in 
regard  to  me?" 

"  I  must  refer  you  to  Mr.  Hartley  for  informa- 
tion," said  Frank.  "  I  have  an  errand  in  here ;  " 
and  he  entered  a  store  in  the  lower  part  of 
Broadway. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  it,"  thought   Haynes. 

"That  boy  was  a  spy  upon  me.  I  have  learned 
all  I  cared  to.  I  owe  you  a  debt  of  gratitude 
for  this,  Frank  Kavanagh,  and  mean  to  pay  the 
debt." 


220  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

When  Frank  came  out  he  thought  it  possible 
that  Haj^nes  might  be  waiting  for  him ;  but  thfl 
disgraced  clerk  was  gone. 

"  I  suppose  he  would  injure  me  if  he  had  a 
chance,"  thought  the  telegraph  boy.  "I  won't  give 
him  the  chance  if  I  can  help  it." 


THE    TELEGRAPH.    BOY.  221 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

WHAT   THE    OLD   TRUNK   CONTAINED. 

Mention  has  been  made  of  an  old  trunk  be- 
longing to  Frank's  father,  which  had  been  for- 
warded to  him  from  the  country  by  his  Uncle 
Pelatiah.  It  may  be  mentioned  here  that  our 
hero's  father  had  been  agent  of  a  woollen  mill 
in  a  large  manufacturing  town.  For  a  consider- 
able number  of  years  he  had  been  in  receipt  of 
a  handsome  salarjT,  and  had  lived  in  good  style, 
but  still  within  his  income.  He  was  naturally 
supposed  to  possess  a  comfortable  property. 

His  death  was  sudden.  He  was  thrown  from  a 
carriage,  and,  striking  his  head  upon  the  curb- 
stone, was  picked  up  senseless,  and  died  uncon- 
scious. Upon  examining  into  his  affairs  his  ad- 
ministrator was  unable  to  find  any  property  be- 
yond what  was  needed  to  pay  the  few  debts  he 
left    behind   him.     So   it   came    about    that    Frank 


222  THE     TELEGRAPH.    BOY. 

was  left  a  penniless  orphan.  His  Uncle  Pelatiah 
was  his  nearest  relative,  and  to  him  he  was  sent. 
Pelatiah  Kavanagh  was  not  a  bad  man,  nor  was 
he  intentionally  unkind ;  but  he  was  very  close. 
All  his  life  he  had  denied  himself,  to  save  money ; 
and  in  this  he  had  been  ably  assisted  by  his 
wife,  who  was  even  closer  and  meaner  than  her 
husband.  It  may  readily  be  supposed  that  it  was 
very  disagreeable  to  both  husband  and  wife  to 
have  a  penniless  nephew  thrown  upon  their  care 
and   protection. 

"  How  could  your  brother  be  so  thoughtless  and 
inconsiderate  as  to  use  up  all  his  money,  and 
leave  his  son  destitute?  Didn't  he  have  a  hand- 
some income  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Pelatiah.  "He  got  two  thousand 
dollars  a  year,  and  maybe  more." 

"  You  don't  say  so ! "  ejaculated  his  wife. 
"  He'd  ought  to  have  saved  two-thirds  of  it.  I 
declare  it's  scandalous  for  a  man  to  waste  his 
substance  in  that  way." 

"  My  brother  was  alius  free  with  his  money. 
He  wasn't  so  keerful  as  you  and  I  be." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  223 

"I  should  think  not,  indeed.  We  dont  begin 
to  spend  half  as  much  as  he  did,  and  now  he 
comes  upon  us  to  support  bis  child." 

"  It  don't  seem  right,"  said  Pelatiah. 

"Right?  It's  outrageous!"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Kavanagh,  energetically.  "  I  declare  I  have  no 
patience  with  such  a  man.  It  would  only  be 
right  to  send  this  boy  Frank  to  the  poor-house." 

"  The  neighbors  would  talk,"  protested  Pela- 
tiah, who  was  half  inclined  to  accept  his  wife's 
view,  but  was  more  sensitive  to  the  criticism  of 
the  community  in  which  he  lived. 

"Let  'em  talk!"  said  his  more  independent 
"  helpmate.  It  isn't  right  that  this  boy  should 
use  up  the  property  that  we  have  scraped  to- 
gether for  his  cousin  Jonathan." 

"We  must  keep  him  for  a  while,  Hannah;  but 
I'll  get  rid  of  him  as  soon  I  can  consistently." 

With  this  Mrs.  Kavanagh  had  to  be  satisfied ; 
but,  during  her  nephew's  stay  of  two  months  in 
the  farm-house,  she  contrived  to  make  him  un- 
comfortable by  harsh  criticisms  of  his  dead  father, 
whom  he  had  tenderly  loved. 


224  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  You  must  have  lived  very  extravagant,"  she 
said,  "  or  your  father  would  have  left  a  hand- 
some  property." 

"  I  don't  think  we  did,  Aunt  Hannah." 

"You  father  kept  a  carriage,  —  didn't  he?" 

"  Yes ;  he  had  considerable  riding  to  do." 

"How  much  help  did  he  keep?" 

"  Only  one  servant  in  the  kitchen,  and  a  stable- 
boy." 

"  There  was  no  need  of  a  boy.  You  could 
have  done  the  work  in  the  stable." 

"  I  was  kept  at  school." 

"  Oh,  of  course  !  "  sneered  his  aunt.  "  You  must 
be  brought  up  as  a  young  gentleman.  Our 
Jonathan  never  had  any  such  chances,  and  now 
you're  livin'  on  him,  or  about  the  same.  I  sup- 
pose you  kept  an  extravagant  table  too.  What 
did  you  generally  have  for  breakfast?" 

So  Aunt  Hannah  continued  her  catechising, 
much  to  Frank's  discomfort.  She  commented 
severely  upon  the  wastefulness  of  always  having 
pastry  for  dinner. 

"  We    can't    afford   it,"   she    said,  emphatically ; 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  225 

"  but  then  again  we  don't  mean  to  have  our 
Jonathan  beholden  to  anybody  in  case  your  uncle 
and  I  are  cast  off  sudden.  What  did  you  aave 
for  dinner  on  Sunday?" 

"Meat  and  pudding  and  ice-cream,  —  that  is,  in 
warm  weather." 

"Ice-cream!"  ejaculated  Aunt  Hannah,  holding 
up  both  hands.  "  No  wonder  your  father  didn't 
leave  nothin'.  Why,  we  don't  have  ice-cream 
more'n  once  a  year,  and  now  we  can't  afford  to 
have  it  at  all,  since  we've  got  another  mouth  to 
feed." 

' '  I  am  sorry  that  you  have  to  stint  yourself  on 
my  account,"  replied  Frank,  feeling  rather  un- 
comfortable. 

"  I  suppose  it's  our  cross,"  said  Mrs.  Kavanagh, 
gloomily;  "but  it  does  seem  hard  that  we  can't 
profit  by  our  prudence  because  of  your  father's 
wasteful  extravagance." 

Such  remarks  were  very  disagreeable  to  our  yonng 
hero,  and  it  was  hard  for  him  to  hear  his  father 
so  criticised.  He  supposed  they  must  have  lived 
extravagantly,    since  it   was   so   constantly  charged 


226  THE    TELEGMAPH    BOT. 

by  those  about  him,  and  he  felt  puzzled  to  ac- 
count for  his  father's  leaving  nothing.  When,  aftei 
two  months,  his  uncle  and  aunt,  who  had  delib- 
erated upon  what  was  best  to  be  done,  proposed 
to  him  to  go  to  New  York  and  try  to  earn  his 
own  living,  he  caught  at  the  idea.  He  knew 
that  he  might  suffer  hardships  in  the  new  life 
that  awaited  him,  but  if  he  could  support  himself 
in  any  way  he  would  escape  from  the  cruel  taunts 
to  which  he  was  now  forced  to  listen  every  day. 
How  he  reached  the  city,  and  how  he  succeeded, 
my  readers  know.  "We  now  come  to  the  trunk, 
which,  some  time  after  its  reception,  Frank  set 
about   examining. 

He  found  it  was  filled  with  clothing  belonging 
to  his  father.  Though  a  part  were  in  good  con- 
dition it  seemed  doubtful  whether  they  would  be 
of  much  service  to  him.  It  occurred  to  him  to 
examine  the  pockets  of  the  coats.  In  one  he 
found  a  common  yellow  envelope,  bearing  his 
father's  name.  Opening  it,  he  found,  to  his  great 
astonishment,  that  it  was  a  certificate  of  railroad 
stock,    setting  forth   his   father's   ownership   of   one 


the   teleghapr  boy.  227 

hundred    shares   of    the   capital    stock   of    the   said 
railway. 

Our  hero  was  greatly  excited  by  his  discovery 
This,  then,  was  the  form  in  which  his  father  had 
invested  his  savings.  What  the  shares  were  worth 
he  had  no  idea ;  but  he  rejoiced  chiefly  because 
now  he  could  defend  his  father  from  the  charge 
of  recklessly  spending  his  entire  income,  and  sav- 
ing nothing.  He  resolved,  as  soon  as  he  could 
find  time,  to  visit  a  Wall-street  broker,  by  whom 
he  had  occasionally  been  employed,  and  inquire 
the  value  of  the  stock.  Two  days  afterwards  the 
opportunity  came,  and  he  availed  himself  of  it  at 
once. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  the  value  of  these  shares, 
Mr.   Glynn?"   he   asked. 

"  They  are  quoted  to-day  at  one  hundred  and 
ten,"  answered  the  broker,  referring  to  a  list  of 
the   day's   stock   quotations. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  each  share  is  worth  & 
hundred  and  ten  dollars?"  asked  Frank,  in  ex- 
citement. 

"  Certainly. " 


228  THE     TELEGRAPH.     BOY. 

"  Then  the  whole  are  worth  five  thousand  five 
hundred  dollars  ?  " 

' '  Rather  more ;  for  the  last  semi-annual  divi- 
dend has  not  been  collected.  To  whom  do  they 
belong?" 

"They  did  belong  to  my  father.  Now  I  sup- 
pose  they   are  mine." 

"  Has  your  father's  estate  been  administered 
upon  ?  " 

' '  Yes ;  but  these  shares  had  not  then  been 
found." 

"Then  some  legal  steps  will  be  necessary  before 
jtou  can  take  possession,  and  dispose  of  them.  I 
will  give  you  the  address  of  a  good  lawyer,  and 
advise  you  to   consult  him   at   once." 

Frank  did  so,  and  the  lawyer  wrote  to  Uncle 
Pelatiah  to  acquaint  him  with  the  disco  very. 
The  news  created  great  excitement  at  the 
farm. 

"  Why,  Frank's  a  rich  boy ! "  ejaculated  Aunt 
Hannah. 

"  And  my  brother  wasn't  so  foolishly  extrava 
gant   as   we  supposed." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  229 

"That  may  be;  but  with  his  salary  we  could 
have  saved  more." 

"  Perhaps  we  might ;  but  these  shares  are  worth 
almost  six  thousand  dollars.  That's  a  good  deal 
of  money,    Hannah." 

"  So  it  is,  Pelatiah.  I'll  tell  you  what  we'd  better 
do." 

"AVhat?" 

"Invite  Frank  to  come  back  and  board  with 
us.  He  can  afford  to  pay  handsome  board,  and 
it  seems  better  that  the  money  should  go  to  us 
than   a   stranger." 

"Just  so,  Hannah.  He  could  board  with  us, 
and   go   to   school." 

"  You'd  better  write  and  invite  him  to  come. 
1  alius  liked  the  boy,  and  if  we  could  have 
afforded  it,  I'd  have  been  in  favor  of  keepin'  him 
for  nothing." 

"So  would  I,"  said  his  uncle;  and  he  probably 
believed  it,  though  after  what  had  happened  it 
will  be  rather  difficult  for  the  reader  to  credit 
it. 

The  letter  was  written,  but  Frank  had  no  desire 


23U  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

to  return  to  the  old  farm,'  and  the  society  of  hia 
uncle's  fajaily. 

"I  have  got  used  to  the  city,"  he  wrote,  "and 
have  made  a  good  many  friends  here.  I  don't 
know  yet  whether  I  shall  take  a  business  posi- 
tion, or  go  to  school ;  but,  if  the  latter,  the  schools 
here  are  better  than  in  the  country.  I  hope  to 
come  and  see  you  before  long ;  but,  I  would  pre- 
fer  to   live   in   New   York." 

"  He's  gettin'  uppish,"  said  Aunt  Hannah,  who 
was  considerably  disappointed,  for  she  had  made 
up  her  mind  just  how  much  they  could  venture 
to  charge  for  board,  and  how  this  would  increase 
their   annual   savings. 

"  I  suppose  it's  natural  for  a  bo}T  to  prefer  the 
city,"   said   his   uncle. 

"If  the  boy  has  a  chance  to  handle  his  money 
there  won't  be  much  of  it  left  by  the  time  he's 
twenty-one,"  said  Aunt  Hannah.  "  You  ought  to 
be   his   guardian." 

"He  has  the  right  to  choose  his  own  guardian," 
said  Uncle  Pelatiah.  "  He'll  take  some  city  man 
likely." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  231 

Frank  did,  in  fact,  select  the  lawyer,  having 
learned  that  he  was  a  man  of  high  reputation 
for  integrity.  He  offered  it  to  Mr.  Bowen ;  but 
that  gentleman,  while  congratulating  his  young 
friend  upon  his  greatly  improved  prospects,  said 
that  he  was  a  man  of  books  rather  than  of 
business,  and  would  prefer  that  some  other  per- 
son be  selected. 

The  next  thing  was  to  resign  his  place  as 
telegraph  boy, 

"  We  are  sorry  to  lose  you,"  said  the  super- 
intendent. "Your  are  one  of  our  best  boys. 
Do  you  wish   to   go   at  once?" 

' '  No,  sir ;  I  will  stay  till  the  end  of  the 
month." 

"Very   well.     We   shall  be    glad   to  have  you." 

Three  weeks  yet  remained  till  the  close  of  the 
month.  It  was  not  loag,  but  before  the  time 
had  passed  Frank  found  himself  in  a  very  un- 
pleasant predicament,  from  no  fault  of  his  own, 
but  in  consequence  of  the  enmity  of  the  clerk 
whom   he   had   been    instrumental   in   displacing. 


232  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A   TRAP,    AND    WHO    FELL    INTO   IT. 

No  one  rejoiced  more  sincerely  at  Frank's  good 
luck  than  Mrs.  Vivian.  Her  interest  in  our  hero 
had  increased,  and  while  at  first  she  regarded 
herself  as  his  patroness  she  had  come  now  to  look 
upon  him  as  a  member  of  the  family.  Fred  had 
already  returned,  and  Frank,  bearing  in  mind 
that  he  had  only  been  invited  to  remain  during 
his  absence,  proposed  to  find  another  home,  but 
Mrs.   Vivian   would  not  hear  of  it. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  Fred  needs  a  }roung  com- 
panion, and  I  prefer  you  to  any  one  I  know 
of." 

As  Fred  was  of  his  mother's  opinion,  Frank 
readily  agreed  to  stay.  He  occupied  a  room  ad- 
joining the  one  assigned  to  Fred,  and  during  his 
hours  of  leir.ure  the  two  were  constantly  to- 
gether. 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  235 

' '  I  shall  be  glad  when  you  leave  the  telegraph 
office,"  said  Fred.  "  Then  we  can  be  together 
more." 

"You  may   get  tired  of  me." 

"If  I   do   I   will   let  you   know." 

Two  days  afterwards  Frank  was  riding  down 
town  in  a  Sixth-avenue  car.  Until  he  had  taken 
his  seat  he  was  not  aware  that  James  Haynes 
was  a  passenger.  When  a  lady  who  sat  between 
them  got  out,  Haynes  moved  up,  so  as  to  sit 
next   to  our   hero. 

"  I  see  you  are  still  in  the  telegraph  service," 
he   said. 

"  Yes,   sir,"   answered   Frank,    briefly. 

"  I  wonder  Mr.  Hartley  didn't  offer  you  a 
permanent  position  in  his  employ,"  said  Haynes, 
with  a   sneer.     "  Spies  are   useful  sometimes." 

"  He  may  give  me  a  position  sometime,"  said 
Frank,    not    regarding   the   sneer. 

"You   earned   it,"   said   Haynes,    unpleasantly. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Frank,  knowing  that  Haynes 
would  be  provoked  by  his  appearing  to  accept 
the   compliment   in   good   faith. 


234  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

Haynes  scowled,  but  said  no  more.  lie  drew 
a  morning  paper  from  his  pocket,  and  appeared 
to   be   absorbed   in   reading   it. 

At  Canal  street  Frank  rose  to  leave  the  car. 
He  had  not  yet  reached  the  door,  when  Hajmes 
sprang  to  his  feet,  followed  him  quickly,  and, 
grasping  him  by  the  arm,  said,  "  Not  so  fast 
young   man !     Give   me   back   my   pocket-book." 

Frank   was   struck   with  amazement. 

"What   do  you   mean?"   he   asked,   indignantly. 

"I  mean  that  }Tou  have  relieved  me  of  my 
pocket-book.  Gentlemen,"  turning  to  his  fellow- 
passengers,  "  I  demand  that  this  boy  be  searched." 

"  You  can  search  me  if  you  like,"  said  Frank. 
"You  know  very  well  that  your  accusation  is 
false." 

"  I  shall  be  satisfied  if  you  produce  what  is 
in   your   pockets." 

"  That's   fair,"   said   a  passenger. 

Our  hero  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket.  To 
his  dismay  he  drew  out  a  Russia-leather  pocket- 
book,   of  which   he  knew   nothing. 

"  That    is     my    pocket-book,    gentlemen,"     said 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  235 

Haynes,  triumphantly.  "I  can  tell  you  exactly 
what  is  in  it.  You  will  find  two  five-dollar  bills, 
a  two  and  a  one.  Be  kind  enough  to  examine 
it,    sir." 

The  pocket-book  was  examined,  and,  of  course, 
Haynes  was  correct. 

Suspicious  glances  were  directed  at  poor  Frank. 
Innocent  as  he  was,  he  was  so  overwhelmed  by 
the  suddenness  of  the  charge,  and  the  apparent 
proof  of  it,  that  he  looked  confused  and  embar- 
rassed. 

"You  are  beginning  early,  my  boy,"  said  a 
tall  gentleman,  in  a  white  cravat,  —  a  clergyman. 
"It  is  well  that  you  are  checked  in  the  beginning 
of  a  guilty  career." 

"Sir,"  said  Frank,  "I  am  as  innocent  as  you 
are.  This  man  is  my  enemy,  and  he  must  have 
put  the  pocket-book  in  my  pocket.  He  threatened 
some  .time  since  to  get  me  into  a  scrape." 

"  That  story  is  rather  too  thin,"  said  Haynes, 
looking  around  him  with  a  sneer.  "  You  won't 
find  any  one  here  quite  verdant  enough  to  believe 
it." 


236  THE    TELEGRAPH   BOY. 

"  There  you  are  mistaken,"  said  a  gentleman 
who  was  seated  directly  opposite  to  Haynes  and 
Frank.     "  /  believe  it." 

Haynes   scowled   at  him   malignantly. 

"  I  really  don't  think  it  very  important  what 
you  believe,  sir.  The  boy  is  evidently  a  profes- 
sional thief,  and  you  may  belong  to  the  same 
gang  for  aught  I  know.  I  propose  to  give  him 
in  charge  to  the  next  policeman  we  meet." 

"  Do  so,"  said  the  stranger,  coolhr.  "  I  shall 
be  present  at  his  trial,  and  offer  some  important 
testimony." 

"Indeed!"  said  Haynes,  uneasily.  "  MajT  I  ask 
what   it  is?" 

"Certainly.  I  saw  you  thrust  the  wallet  into 
the  boy's  pocket!  Of  that  I  am  willing  to  make 
oath." 

James  Haynes  turned  pale.  There  was  a  sudden 
change  in  public  opinion.  It  was  he  who  now 
had  become  an  object  of  suspicion. 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  clergyman,  solemnly, 
"what  could  have  induced  you  to  enter  into  such 
a   wicked  conspiracy  against  the  poor  boy?" 


THE    TELEGRAPH  BOY.  237 

"  Mind  your  own  business  !  "  said  Haynes,  rudely. 
"  It  is  a  lie." 

"It  is  the  truth,"  said  the  volunteer  witness, 
calmly. 

Here  a  policeman  became  visible  from  the  car- 
window,  leisurely  walking  his  beat  on  the  western 
sidewalk. 

"  There's  a  policeman,"  said  Frank's  new  friend. 
"Call  him,  and  have  the  boy  arrested." 

' '  He  would  be  cleared  by  false  testimony," 
said  Haynes,  sullenly.  "  I  have  my  money  back, 
and  will  let  him  go." 

"  Then,"  said  the  stranger,  rising,  and  displaying 
the  badge  of  a  detective,  "  I  shall  arrest  3Tou  on 
a  charge  of  conspiracy." 

Haynes  was  fairly  caught  in  his  own  trap. 

"  This  is  a  put-up  job,  gentlemen,"  he  said. 
"  Am  I  to  be  robbed  first,  and  arrested  after- 
wards for  exposing  the  thief?" 

He  looked  about  him  appealingly ;  but  in 
vain.  Public  sentiment  was  wholly  against  him 
now. 

"  0     you     ould     villain ! "    said     a     stout    Irish 


238  THE    TELEGRAPH  BOY. 

woman,  "  to  try  to  ruin  the  poor  b'ye.  Hangin's 
too  good  for  you." 

This  was  rather  an  extreme  sentiment ;  but 
Haynes  saw  that  he  was  in  peril.  He  gave  an 
unexpected  spring,  and,  reaching  the  platform, 
sprang   out,    running  up   a   side   street. 

"Do  you  know  him?"  asked  the  detective  of 
Frank. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  How    do    you     account    for    his     hostility    to 


you 


v» 


Frank  briefly  recounted  the  story  already  known 
to  the  reader. 

"  He   can   easily   be   found   then." 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  arrest  him,  sir,"  said 
Frank.  "  He  has  been  pretty  well  punished  already, 
and  I  don't  think  he  will  trouble  me  again." 

"If  he  does,  send  for  me,"  and  the  detective 
handed  Frank  his  card  and  address. 

"  It  is  fortunate  for  me,"  said  the  telegraph 
boy,  "  that  you  saw  him  put  the  mone}r  in  my 
pocket." 

"You   would  have  experienced    some    inconven- 


THE    TELEGRAPH   DOT.  239 

ieuce ;  but  the  story  you  have  told  me  would 
have  cleared  you  with  the  jury." 

"  My  young  friend,"  said  the  clergyman,  "  1  owe 
you  an  apology.  I  too  hastily  assumed  that  }tou 
were  guilty." 

"  It  looked  like  it,  sir.  You  were  quite  justified 
in  what  you  said.  Mr.  Haynes  did  not  appear 
to  relish  your  remarks  to  him,"  added  Frank, 
laughing. 

"  His  crime  was  greater  and  meaner  than  the 
one  charged  upon  you.  To  steal  is  certainly  a 
grave  offence,  —  yet  sometimes  it  is  prompted  by 
necessitj- ;  but  a  deliberate  attempt  to  fasten  a 
false  charge  upon  a  fellow-creature  is  vastly  more 
atrocious." 

"So  it  is,  sir,"  said  the  old  Irish  woman,  nod- 
ding assent  vigorously.  "  I  quite  agree  wid  your 
honor.     It   is   owtracious." 

The  passengers  smiled  at  the  old  woman's 
mistake;  but  it  was  clear  that  they  agreed  with 
her  in   sentiment. 

Meanwhile  the  car  had  been  speeding  along,  and 
was   near  its   terminus.     Frank   bethought    himself 


240  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

that  he  had  been  carried  considerably  beyond  his 
destination. 

He  pulled  the  bell,  and,  as  he  got  out,  he  said, 
"  Thank  you  all  for  taking  my  part." 

"We  don't  quite  deserve  that,"  said  one  of  the 
passengers,  after  Frank  had  left  the  car.  "  I  was 
at  first  of  opinion  that  the  boy  was  guilty." 

"  We  have  been  saved  from  doing  a  great  in- 
justice," said  the  clergyman.  "  It  should  be  a 
lesson  to  all  of  us  not  to  be  too  hast}7  in  our 
judgments." 

James  Haynes  in  his  hurried  exit  from  the  car 
fully  believed  that  he  would  be  pursued  and  ar- 
rested. He  was  relieved  to  find  his  fears  ground- 
less. But  he  was  disappointed  at  the  failure  of 
his  scheme.  He  had  carefully  prepared  it,  and 
for  several  days  he  had  been  in  readiness  to 
carry  it  into  execution  whenever  he  should  meet 
Frank.  This  morning  had  brought  the  opportu- 
nity ;  but  it  had  miscarried. 

"  But  for  that  cursed  detective  I  would  have 
carried  the  thing  through,"  he  muttered.  "  He 
spoiled  all.     I  hate  that  boy !  " 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOT.  241 

But,  though  revengeful,  Haynes  was  prudent 
He  gave  up  the  thought  of  injuring  Frank  be. 
cause  he  saw  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to 
himself.  He  did  not  remain  long  in  New  York, 
but  soon  ioiued  his  confederate  in  Hartford. 


242  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY'. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

FRANK    BECOMES   A   GOOD    SAMARITAN. 

The  close  of  the  month  came,  and  Frank  laid 
aside  his  uniform.  He  was  a  telegraph  boy  no 
more. 

The  superintendent  shook  hands  with  him  cor- 
dially, and  bade  him  good-by. 

"  Come  and  see  us  sometimes,"  he  said.  "  I 
wish  you  all  success.  Your  services  have  been 
very  satisfactory,  and  you  have  gained  an  ex- 
cellent reputation." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Frank.  "I  have  tried 
to  do  my  duty.     Good-by,   boys!" 

He  shook  hands  with  all  his  3*oung  comrades, 
with  whom  he  was  very  popular.  They  knew  of 
his  good  fortune,  and  were  disposed  to  regard 
him  as  very  rich.  Six  thousand  dollars  in  a 
boy's  eyes   is  a  fortune. 

"  Now  you're  rich,  Frank,  I  suppose  you  won't 
notice  the  likes  of  us,"   said  Johnny  O'Connor. 


THE     TELEGRAP/I    BOY.  243 

"  I  hope  you  don't  think  as  badly  of  me  as 
that,  Johnny,"  said  Frank,  earnestly.  "  I  am  not 
rich ;  but,  even  if  I  were,  I  should  always  be 
glad  to  meet  any  of  you.  If  I  am  ever  able  to 
do  a  favor  to  any  of  you  I  will." 

"I  believe  you,  Frank,"  said  Johnny.  "You 
was  always  a  good  feller." 

"Where's  Tom  Brady?"  asked  Frank,  looking 
about  him.     "Is  he  out  on  an  errand?" 

"Tom's  sick,"  said  the  superintendent.  "He's 
got  a  fever." 

"  It's  bad  for  him,"  said  Johnny,  "  for  his 
mother  and  sister  depended  on  Tom's  wages. 
Poor  Tom  felt  bad  because  he  had  to  give  up 
work." 

"Where  does  he  live?"  asked  Frank,  with 
quick  sympathy. 

"  No.  —  East  Fourteenth  street,"  answered 
Johnny.  "I  know,  because  I  live  in  the  same 
block." 

"  I'll  go  and  see  him." 

Frank's  heart  was  not  hardened  by  his  own 
prosperity.      He   knew   wha'.   it   was    to    be    pooi^ 


211  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

and   could   enter    into    the    feelings   of    the   unfor- 
tunate telegraph  boy. 

Half  an  hour  found  him  in  front  of  a  large 
tenement-house,  in  front  of  which  were  playing 
children  of  all  ages,  most  of  them  showing  in 
their  faces  that  unhealthy  pallor  which  so  gener- 
ally marks  a  tenement-house  population. 

"Do  you  know  where  Mrs.  Brady  lives?"  asked 
Frank  of  a  girl  of  twelve. 

"Which  Brady  is  it?"  asked  the  girl.  "There's 
three  lives  here." 

"  It's   Tom   Brady's  mother,"  answered  our  hero. 

"Is  it  Tom,  the  telegraph  bo}^?" 

"  Yes." 

"I'll  show  you  then.  Tom's  been  sick  for  some 
time." 

'  I  know  it.     I  have-  come  to  see  him." 
'Do   you   know   Tom?"    asked  the  girl,  in  some 
surprise ;  for   Frank,  having  laid  aside  his  uniform, 
was  handsomely   d/essed,  and   looked   like   the  son 
of  a  rich  man. 

"  Yes,  Tom  is  a  friend  of  mine.  I  am  sorry 
he's  sick." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  245 

Up  two  flights  of  rickety  stairs  Frank  followed 
the   girl,   who  halted   before    a   door. 

"  That's  the  place,"  said  his  young  guide,  and 
disappeared  down  the  stairs,  sliding  down  the 
banisters.  Young  ladies  in  the  best  society  do 
not  often  indulge  in  this  amusement,  but  Mary 
Murphy  knew  little  of  etiquette  or  conventionality. 

In  answer  to  Frank's  knock,  the  door  was 
opened  by  Mrs.  Brady,  a  poorly  clad  and  care- 
worn   woman. 

"What  is  3rour  wish,  young  gentleman?"  she 
said. 

"I've  come  to  see  Tom.     How  is  he?" 

"Do  you  know  my  Tom?"  asked  Mrs.  Bvady, 
in   surprise. 

"Yes;   is  he    very   sick?" 

"  The  poor  boy  has   got   a   fever." 

"Can  I   see   him?" 

"If  you'll  come  into  such  a  poor  place,  sir. 
We're  very  poor,  and  now  that  Tom's  wages  is 
stopped  I  don't  know  how  we'll  get  along  at 
all." 

"Better   than  you  think,  perhaps,  Mrs.    Brady," 


246  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

said  Frank,  cheerfully.  "Why,  Tom,  what  made 
you  get    sick?" 

He  had  entered  the  room,  and  reached  the  bed 
on   which   the   sick   boy   was   lying. 

Tom  looked   up   in   surprise   and   pleasure. 

"  Is  it  }'Ou,  Frank?"  he  said.  "I'm  glad  you've 
come  to  see  me.  But  how  did  you  find  me 
out?" 

"  Johnny  O'Connor  told  me  where  you  lived. 
How   long   have   you   been   sick  ? " 

"  Three  days.  It's  rough  on  a  poor  boy  like 
me.  I  ought  to  be  earning  money  for  my 
mother." 

"  We'll  miss  Tom's  wages  badly,"  said  Mrs. 
Brad}" ;  "  I  can't  earn  much  myself,  and  there's 
three   of  us   to   feed,    let   alone   the   rint." 

"How  did  you  get   off,    Frank?"  asked  Tom. 

"I've   left   the   office." 

"Was  this  young  gentleman  a  telegraph  boy?"' 
asked   Mrs.   Brad}7,   in   surprise. 

"Yes,"  said  Tom;  "but  he's  come  into  a  for- 
tune,   and   now   he   won't  have   to   work." 

"  I'm   sure   I'm   glad   of  his   srood  luck,    and  it's 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  247 

a  great  condesciasion  for  a  rich  young  gentleman 
to   come   and   see  my   Tom." 

"  I  have  come  into  some  money,  but  not  a 
fortune,  Mrs.  Brady,"  said  Frank ;  "  but  it  does  not 
make  me  any  better  than  when  I  was  a  poor 
telegraph  boy." 

Evidently  Mrs.  Brady  was  not  of  this  opinion, 
for  she  carefully  dusted  with  her  apron  the  best 
chair  in  the  room,  and  insisted  on  Frank's  seat- 
ing  himself  in   it. 

"Have  }'ou  had  a  doctor,  Mrs.  Brady?"  asked 
Frank. 

"  Yes." 

"What   does  he   say?" 

"  He  says  that  Tom  will  be  sick  for  three  or 
four  weeks,  and  I  don't  know  what  we'll  do  with- 
out his   wages   all  that  time." 

"That's  what  troubles  me,"  said  Tom.  "I 
wouldn't  mind  it  so  much  if  I'd  get  my  pay 
reg'lar   while   I'm   sick." 

"Then  you  needn't  be  troubled,  Tom,"  said 
Frank,  promptly,  "  for  you  shall  get  it  regu- 
larly." 


248  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"  They  won't  give  it  to  me,"  said  Tom,  in- 
credulously. 

"They   won't,  but  I   will." 

' '  Do  you  mean   it,    Frank  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do.  I  will  give  you  a  week's 
pay  this  morning,  and  I  will  call  every  week, 
and   pay   you   the   same." 

"Do  3tou  hear  that,  mother?"  said  Tom,  joy- 
fully. 

"God  bless  you,  young  gentleman,  for  your 
kindness   to   us ! "   said   Mrs.    Brady,   gratefully. 

"Oh,  it  isn't  much,"  said  Frank;  "  I  can  spare 
it  well  enough.  I  have  had  such  good  luck  my- 
self that  I  ought  to  do  something  for  those  who 
need  it." 

"You're  a  good  feller,  Frank,"  said  Tom, 
warmly.  "  I'll  get  well  quick  now.  If  you  ever 
want  anybody  to  fight  for  you,  just  call  on  Tom 
Brady." 

"  I  generally  do  my  own  fighting,  Tom,"  said 
Frank,  laughing,  "but  I'll  remember  your  offer. 
When  you  are  well,  you  must  come  and  spend 
an  evening  with  me." 


THE     TELEGliAPH.    BOY.  249 

"  I'm  sure  he'll  be  proud  to  do  the  aaine," 
said   Mrs.   Brady. 

"  I  must  bid  you  good-by,  now,  Tom.  Keep  a 
'  stiff  upper  lip,'  and  don't  be  down-hearted.  We 
must  all  be  sick  sometimes,  you  know,  and  you'll 
soon  be   well." 

"I  won't  be  down-hearted  now,"  said  Tom, 
"  with  my  wages  comiu'  in  reg'lar.  Remember 
me   to   the  boys,   Frank." 

"I   will,   Tom." 

When  Frank  reached  home  he  found  a  large, 
overgrown  boy,  with  big  red  hands,  and  clothes 
of  rural  cut,  who  apparently  did  not  know  what 
to  do  with  his  legs  and  arms,  waiting  to  see 
him. 

It   was   his   cousin  Jonathan. 


250  THE     TELEGRAPH.     BOY. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A    COUNTRY   COUSIN. 

Jonathan  was  a  loose-jointed,  heavily  built,  and 
awkward  bo}T  of  seventeen,  bearing  not  the  slight- 
est resemblance  to  his  cousin  Frank.  Still  he 
was  a  relation,  and  our  hero  was  glad  to  see 
him. 

"How  are  3rou,  Jonathan?"  said  Frank,  cor- 
dially. "I  wasn't  expecting  to  see  you.  Are 
all   well   at   home?" 

"  They're  pooty  smart,"  answered  Jonathan. 
"  I  thought  I'd  come  down  and  look  round  a 
little." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  show  you  round.  Where 
would  you   like   to   go?  —  to   Central   Park? 

"  I  don't  care  much  about  it,"  said  the  coun- 
try cousin.  "  It's  only  a  big  pasture,  dad  says. 
I'd  rather  go  round  the  streets.  Is  there  any 
place  where  I  can  buy  a  few  doughnuts?  I  feel 
kinder   empty." 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY.  25  i 

"Do  you  prefer  doughnuts  to  anything  else?" 
asked   Frank,   with   a   smile. 

"I  hear  they're  cheap, —  only  a  cent  apiece," 
answered  Jonathan,  "  and  I  calc'late  five  or  six 
will  be   enough   to   fill  me   up." 

"  You  needn't  mind  the  expense,  cousin ;  I 
shall   pay   for  your  dinner." 

Jonathan's  heavy  face  lighted  up  with  satisfac- 
tion. 

"I  don't  care  if  you  do,"  he  said.  "I  hear 
you've   got   a   lot   of    money   now,   Frank." 

"I  shall  have  enough  to  make  me  comfortable, 
and   start  me   in   business." 

"  I  wish  I  had  as  much  money  as  you,"  said 
Jonathan,   longingly. 

"  You  are  all  right.  Some  time  you  will  have 
more   than   I." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  Dad  keeps  me 
awful   close." 

"You   have   all  you   want,   don't   you?" 

"  I've  got  some  money  in  the  bank,"  said 
Jonathan,  "but  I'd  like  to  put  in  more.  I 
lever   thought   you'd   have    more   money   than   I." 


252  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

"You  used  to  tell  me  I  ought  to  go  to  the 
poor-house,"    said  Frank,    smiling. 

"  That's  because  you  was  livin'  on  dad,  you 
know,"  explained  Jonathan.  "It  wasn't  fair  to 
me,  because  he  wouldn't  have  so  much  to  leave 
me." 

In  the  country  Frank  had  not  found  much 
satisfaction  in  the  company  of  his  cousin,  who 
inherited  the  combined  meanness  of  both  parents, 
and  appeared  to  grudge  poor  Frank  every  mouth- 
ful he  ate ;  but  in  the  sunshine  of  his  present 
prosperity  he  was   disposed   to  forgive    and   forget. 

Frank  led  the  way  to  a  restaurant  not  far 
away,  where  he  allowed  his  cousin  to  order  an 
ample  dinner,  which  he  did  without  scruple,  since 
he   was   not  to   pa}T   for   it. 

"It  costs  a  sight  to  live  in  the  city,"  he  said, 
as  he   looked   over   the   bill   of  fare. 

"It  costs  something  in  the  country,  too,  Jona- 
than." 

"  I  wish  you'd  come  and  board  with  dad. 
He'd  take  you  for  five  dollars  a  week,  and  it 
will   cost  you   more   in    New   York." 


THE    TELEGRAPH  BOY.  253 

"  Yes,    it   will   cost   me  more   here." 

"Then  you'll  come,  won't  you?  You'll  be  com- 
pany   for   me." 

Frank  doubted  whether  Jonathan  would  be 
much   company   for  him. 

"You   didn't  use   to   think   so,    Jonathan." 

"You  couldn't  pay   your   board   then." 

"  Now  that  I  can  I  prefer  to  remain  :n  vhe 
city.  I  mean  to  go  to  school,  and  get  a  good 
education." 

"  How  much  do  you  have  to  pay  for  board 
here?" 

"  I  can't  tell  what  I  shall  have  to  pa}*.  At 
present  I  am  staying  with  friends,  and  pay 
nothing." 

"  Do  }'ou  think  they'd  take  me  for  a  week  the 
same  way?"  asked  Jonathan,  eagerly.  "I'd  like 
to  stay  a  week   first-rate   if  it  didn't  cost  nothing." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  to  ask  them ;  but  some  time 
I  will  invite  you  to  come  and  pay  me  a  visit 
of    a   week ;    it   shall   not   cost  you   anything." 

"  You're  a  real  good  feller,  Frank,"  said  Jon- 
athan,   highly    pleased    by    the    invitation.      "I'll 


254  THE    TRLEQKAPH  BOY. 

come  any  time  you  send  for  me.  It's  pretty  high 
payin'  on  the   railroad,   but   I   guess   I   can  come." 

Frank  understood  the  hint,  but  did  not  feel 
called  upon  to  pay  his  cousin's  railway  fare  in 
addition   to   his   week's   board. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  asked  Jonathan, 
presently,  displaying  a  huge  ring  on  one  of  his 
red   fingers. 

"  Is  that  something  you  have  bought  in  the 
city  ?  "    asked   Frank. 

"Yes,"  answered  his  cousin,  complacently.  "I 
got  it   at   a   bargain." 

"Did  you   buy   it   in   a  jewelry   store?" 

"  No ;  I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.  I  was  goin' 
along  the  street,  when  .  I  saw  a  well-dressed  fel- 
ler, who  looked  kinder  anxious.  He  come  up  to 
me,  and  he  said,  '  Do  you  know  any  one  who 
wants  to  buy  a  splendid  gold  ring  cheap?' 
Then  he  told  me  he  needed  some  money  right 
off  to  buy  vittles  for  his  family,  bein'  out  of 
work  for  a  month.  He  said  the  ring  cost  him 
fifteen  dollars,  and  he'd  sell  it  for  three.  I  wasn't 
goin'    to    pay   no    such    price,    and    I    finally    beat 


THE    TELEGRAPH  BOV.  255 

him  down  to  a  dollar,"  said  Jonathan,  chuckling. 
"I  guess  that's  doing  pretty  well  for  one  day 
He  said  any  jeweller  would  pay  me  six  or 
seven   dollars   for   it." 

"Then  why  didn't  he  sell   it  to  a  jeweller  him 
self,   instead   of  giving   it  to  you   for   a   dollar?" 

"I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Jonathan,  look- 
ing puzzled. 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  not  so  good  a  bargain  as 
you   supposed,"   said   Frank. 

Great  drops  of  perspiration  came  out  on  Jona- 
than's  brow. 

"You  don't  think  it's  brass,  do  you?"  he 
gasped. 

"  Here  is  a  jewelry  store.  We  can  go  in  and 
inquire." 

They  entered  the  store,  and  Frank,  calling  at- 
tention  to   the   ring,    inquired   its   probable   value. 

"  It  might  be  worth  about  three  cents,"  said 
the  jeweller,  laughing.  "I  hope  }rou  didn't  give 
much   more   for   it." 

"I  gave  a  dollar,"  said  Jonathan,  in  a  voice 
which   betrayed   his    anguish. 


256  THE    1EZEGHAPJ2    £01. 

"  Of  whom   did   you   buy   it?" 

"Of  a   man   in   tne   street." 

"Served  you  right,  then.  You  should  have 
gone   to   a   regular  jewelry   store." 

"  The  man  said  it  cost  him  fifteen  dollars," 
said   Jonathan,    sadly. 

"I  dare  say.  He  was  a  professional  swindler, 
ao   doubt." 

"I'd  like  to  give  him  a  lickin',"  said  Jonathan, 
wrathfully,   as   they   left  the   store. 

"What  would  you  do  if  you  was  me?"  he 
asked   of  his   cousin. 

' '  Throw   it   away." 

' '  I  wouldn't  do  that.  Maybe  I  can  sell  it  up 
in  the  country,"     he  said,  his  face   brightening   up 

' '  For  how   much  ?  " 

"  For  what  I  gave." 

"  But  that  would  be   swindling." 

"  No,  it  wouldn't.  I  have  a  right  to  ask  as 
much  as  I  gave.  It's  real  handsome  if  it  ia 
brass." 

'  I  don't  think  that  would  be  quite  honest, 
J    lathan." 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  257 

"  You  wouldn't   have   me   lose   the  dollar,  would 

you?    That  would   be   smart." 

"  I   would   rather  be   honest  than   be   smart." 
Jonathan    dropped    the    subject,    but    eventually 

he    sold    the    ring    at    home    for   a    dollar   and   a 

quarter. 


258  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 


CONCLUSION. 


After  he  had  accompanied  his  cousin  to  the 
depot,  where  he  took  the  cars  for  home,  Frank 
met   Victor    Dupont,   on   Madison    avenue. 

"Where's   your  uniform?"    he   asked. 

"  T   have  taken  it  off." 

' '  Aint  you   a  telegraph   boy  any   longer  ? " 

"No,    I   have   left  the   office." 

"  They  turned  you  off,  I  suppose,"  said  Victor, 
with   a   sneer. 

"  They  would  like  to  have  had  me  stay  longer,' 
said   Frank,   with   a   smile. 

Victor   shrugged   his   shoulders   incredulously. 

"Are  you  going  back  to  your  old  business  of 
selling  papers?"   he   asked. 

"I   think   not." 

' '  What   are  you   going   to   do   for  a   living  ? " 

'*  I   am   much   obliged   to    you   for  your   interes* 


THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY.  259 

in  my  affairs,  Victor ;  I  don't  mean  to  go  to  work 
al    all   at  present,  —  I   am   going  to   school." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  pay  your  expenses, 
then?"   asked   Victor,    in   surprise. 

"  I   have   had   some  money  left  me." 

' '  Is  that  so  ?    How   much  ? " 

"Some  thousands  of  dollars,  —  enough  to  support 
me   while   I   am   getting   an   education." 

"Who   left   it   to   you?" 

"  My  father  left  it,  but  I  have  only  just 
received   it." 

"You  are  awfully  lucky,"  said  Victor,  evidently 
annoyed.  "Are  you  going  to  live  with  the 
Vivians?" 

"I   don't  know." 

"I  shouldn't  think  you  would.  It  would  be 
imposing  upon   them." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  kind  advice.  "Won't  you 
take   me   to   board    at  your   house  ? " 

"We  don't  take  boarders,"  said  Victor,  haughtily. 

It  so  happened  that  Frank  entered  himself  as 
a  scholar  at  the  school  where  Victor  was  a 
student,  and  was  put  in  the  same  class.     Frank  at 


260  THE    TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

once  took  a  higher  place,  and  in  time  graduated 
with  the  highest  honors,  while  Victor  came  out 
nearly   at  the  foot. 

Frank  did  remain  with  the  Vivians ;  they  would 
not  hear  of  his  leaving  them,  nor  would  they 
permit  him   to  pay   any  board. 

"  You  are  a  companion  for  Fred,"  said  Mrs. 
Vivian,  "and  you  exert  a  good  influence  over 
him.  Having  your  company,  he  does  not  wish  to 
seek  society  outside.  You  must  let  me  look  upon 
you  as  one  of  my  boys,  and  accept  a  home 
with   us." 

Against  this,  Frank  could  urge  no  objection. 
He  was  offered  a  home  far  more  attractive  than 
a  boarding-house,  which  his  presence  made  more 
social  and  attractive.  Having  no  board  to  provide 
for,  the  income  of  his  little  property  was  abundant 
to  supply  his  other  wants,  and,  when  he  left 
school,    it   was   unimpaired. 

It  was  a  serious  question  with  our  hero  whether 
he  would  continue  his  studies  through  a  collegiate 
course.  He  finally  decided  in  the  negative,  and 
accepted   a  good  position   in   the  mercantile   estab- 


THE     TELEGRAPH    BO 7.  261 

lishment  of  Mr.  Hartley.  Here  he  displayed  such 
intelligence  and  aptitude  for  business  that  he  rose 
rapidly,  and  in  time  acquired  an  interest  in  the 
firm,  and  will  in  time  obtain  a  junior  partnership. 
It  must  not  be  supposed  that  all  this  came 
without  hard  work.  It  had  always  been  Frank's 
custom  to  discharge  to  the  utmost  of  his  ability 
the  duties  of  any  position  in  which  he  was  placed. 
To  this  special  trait  of  our  hero,  most  of  his 
success   was   owing. 

Our  hero  had  the  satisfaction  of  giving  a  place 
to  his  companion  in  the  telegraph  office,  Tom 
Brady,  who  was  in  time  able  to  earn  such  a 
salary  as  raised  his  mother  and  sister  above 
want.  Frank  did  not  forget  his  old  street  com- 
rade, Dick  Rafferty,  but  gave  him  a  position  as 
porter,  Dick's  education  not  being  sufficient  to 
qualify  him  for  a  clerkship.  He  even  sought  out 
old  Mills,  the  blind  man,  to  whom  he  had  small 
reason  to  feel  grateful ;  but  found  that  the  old 
man  had  suddenly  died,  leaving  behind  him,  to 
the  surprise  of  every  one  who  knew  him,  several 
Vundred    dollars   in   gold    and    silver,    which   were 


262  THE     TELEGRAPH    BOY. 

claimed    by    a    sister  of    the    deceased,   to    whom 
they  were  most  acceptable. 

Here  end  the  experiences  of  the  Telegraph  Boy. 
He  has  been  favored  above  most  of  his  class ; 
but  the  qualities  which  helped  him  achieve  success 
are  within  the  reach  of  all.  Among  the  busy  little 
messengers  who  flit  about  the  city,  in  all  directions, 
there  are  some,  no  doubt,  who  will  in  years  to 
come  command  a  success  and  prosperity  as  great 
as  our  hero  has  attained.  In  a  republic  like  our 
own,  the  boy  who  begins  at  the  bottom  of  the 
ladder  may  in   time   reach   the   highest  round. 


THE    EKD. 


II 


